


All Is Love (hiatus)

by lightyears



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe- Modern Setting - Freeform, F/M, Kid Fic, Single mom!Clarke, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 136,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightyears/pseuds/lightyears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all begins because Raven declares that she's on a sex ban for three months. Clarke reminds her of this when her life is turned upside down. Raven reminds Clarke later, when everything finds its place again.   </p><p>Or, Clarke finds out she's pregnant six weeks after Bellamy leaves. </p><p> </p><p>  <b>On hiatus because I am basically re-writing this. There are going to be inconsistencies if you read as is at the moment, just so you know. I'm trying to be more realistic than I was earlier, so don't expect an update for (still) a while now.</b></p><p> </p><p>  <b>Currently editing chapter 6.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It all begins because Raven declares that she's on a sex ban for three months. Clarke reminds her of this when her life is turned upside down. Raven reminds Clarke later, when everything finds its place again.

* * *

 

There are moments in Clarke's life, ones that often have her groaning in frustration or huffing in annoyance, that she really, really wishes that she could go back in time and tell herself one thing. _D_ _on't be such a fucking idiot._

These moments include riding a rollercoaster after inhaling a ridiculous amount of candy when she was ten. A home dye job that left her hair a blazing shade of red to accompany an awfully orange fake tan her sophomore year of high school. The time she thought an _8am class_ at uni would be a good start to the day, because  _that logic made sense._

And of course, right now, with Raven looking at her as though she's actually insane, Clarke  _really_ wishes she could go back in time and tell herself that she's about to make a mistake. Because Raven knowing that the one night stand Clarke gushed about for a solid two hours actually left their number, is definitely a bad thing. The fact that Clarke's been listening to her go on and on about it for the past half hour is testament to that enough.

"I can't  _believe_ you," Raven is saying, after she worked herself into a huff at Clarke's refusal to budge on the matter. "You're acting _insane_ right now, Clarke.  _Insane._ "

"I'm not acting insane, Rave," Clarke says, rolling her eyes at her friend's dramatics. "I'm being practical."  


"Practically an  _idiot,_ " Raven scoffs, a comment Clarke expertly ignores. "I seriously don't understand why you aren't taking this guy on on his offer."

“I’ve already explained this,” Clarke huffs, frowning at the ever-growing pile of items in their shopping basket. They were wandering the aisles of their local drugstore when Clarke stupidly admitted to having saved the guy she met's number in her phone, and she thinks Raven's frustrations with her has translated into angry shopping, because there's a lot of crap in there they probably don't need. Turning her frown up to Raven, Clarke once again lays out her defence. "He's leaving in a week," she explains, reasonably. "There's just -- no point in starting something."

"No, no, no. You're thinking about this the wrong way. It doesn't have to be  _starting_ something; it can just be -- a week long holiday. A break from the same old."

"Maybe I don't want a break from the same-old," Clarke points out.

"You're the one who told me all about the night you spent together," Raven says, ignoring her. "And that he gave you his number. I think you just secretly want the encouragement. You know, not to be chicken shit."

“Do not.”

Raven snorts, sending Clarke a look that tells her just how transparent she is. “So you're telling me that you met a hot guy, hit it off straight away, and had awesome sex," she points out on her fingers, "and him leaving his number doesn't make you want to call at all?"

“Yes, despite all of that, I don't want to call.”

“You're such a liar.”

“And _you're_  such a bully.”

Raven rolls her eyes, biting back a much too sly grin. "You know, in our entire time of living together, you've not once gone home with someone else?"

Clarke frowns, partly from the statement and partly from Raven's change in tactics. "What? That's definitely not true."

"It is," Raven insists. "You bring people home; you don't go home with them. And now, in a time where I need to see hot guys, you can't even pull through with that. Seriously, Clarke, you're forgetting that I'm living vicariously through your sex life."

"It's not my fault that you're on a weird sex ban," Clarke reminds her. "And anyway, my original point still stands. He's leaving in a week, and there's no point starting something that'll end as soon as it begins."

“And my original counter-point still stands. You're thinking about it in the wrong way.” Before Clarke has a chance to protest, Raven puts her hands on Clarke's shoulders, soldiers on. “Look, nobody's saying you have to fall in love with the guy, babe. And if I really thought you didn't want to call him, I wouldn't push it. But I think you do, and I know that you deserve the week of fun that it promises. You've worked like crazy this past quarter, and you're finishing up your degree soon. This'll be good for you.”

Clarke worries her lip, feels herself faltering. “It just feels weird, dragging out a one night stand.”

"He left his number; he obviously still wants to see you."

"Okay, point. But what if I don’t like him without alcohol? And I've already agreed to hang out with him for a week. _Or_ , what if I like him a lot, and then I'm heartbroken when he leaves?"

“You already know that you like him,” Raven says. “You  _texted_ me about it that night. Alcohol just makes you worry less. And it’s a week, Clarke. I doubt you’ll be heartbroken.”

"A lot can happen in a week," Clarke mutters under her breath, petulant.

Raven laughs, shakes her head a little. "You're ridiculous."

"Shut up."  Clarke sighs, screws her nose up at Raven. "You’re not going to drop this, are you?" She asks, mostly just to be annoying. She knows Raven isn't going to let this go, and as much as Clarke hates to admit it, her friend is right. There is a part of her that wanted to call, and just needed the encouragement.

"Not a chance."

"Fine," Clarke relents. "I’ll text him."

Raven’s face splits into a mischievous grin. "Good. I’m expecting a very satisfied Clarke for the next week," she says, waggling her eyebrows.

Clarke groans, shoves her friend. "You’re the worst. You know that, right?"

Raven grins, very happy with herself. "I know."

In actual fact, Raven is far from the worst. They first met three years ago, introducing themselves after Clarke found Raven making out with her then-boyfriend, which actually happened to be  _Raven's_ boyfriend at the time. Finn was an idiot, honestly, especially considering this all occurred at the bar he worked at -- one all three of them frequented regularly -- but after they both let off some steam, she and Raven became fast friends, ditching him and keeping each other.

Friends became roommates about a year ago, and between further shitty relationships, an accident that lead to months of physical therapy and a never fully-healed leg, and general bonding over alcohol and takeout and shitty TV, Raven's probably one of Clarke's favourite people. Along with Wells, which is actually a fight they have regularly.

Still, while she's one of Clarke's favourites, that doesn't mean she isn't annoying. Even if she is convincing her to do something she wanted to anyway. So she's chicken? Whatever.

**Me:**  Still looking for a tour guide for the next week?

He replies quickly, and the fact that Clarke feels herself grin is  _the worst._

 **Bellamy:** Hey princess. I am still looking for a tour guide. You offering, or is this a general enquiry?

 **Me:**  I may have some free time on my hands. Are you free tonight?

 **Bellamy:** After six, yeah. Want to get drinks? I can come out your way this time.

 **Me:**  Yeah, sounds great.

They hash out plans to meet tonight at eight, and with Bellamy's final  _See you then, princess,_ Clarke's pretty sure it was the right decision.

"Alright, I'm getting drinks with him tonight. Happy?"

Raven smirks. “Ecstatic. Now here, you'll be needing these." She hands over a box of condoms, having apparently picked them up while Clarke was busy texting. "You can never be too careful, Griffin. The pill doesn’t protect you from everything."

"It's not fair that you can hide your teasing beneath genuine concern for my wellbeing," Clarke responds, dropping the box in the basket. She is right, after all.

They pay for their stuff before making the walk back to their apartment, chatting easily along the way. Raven mentions texting the gang to come out tonight, as back up for Clarke incase she needs it, which is how Raven shows she cares. Still, it's kind of startling how sure Clarke is that she won't need it. Her memory of Wednesday night is a little hazy, but -- they did get along really well, and Bellamy was definitely a good guy.

"Just to make sure he isn't an axe murderer," Raven insists, as they make their way up to the second storey of their building. Elevator maintenance has been going on for a month now, and even with Raven's brace, tweaked to pretty much perfection, it's often slow going. Clarke offers her an arm up the last flight, rolling her eyes when her friend screws up her nose.

" _N_ _ow_ you’re worried he might be an axe murderer?" She asks, amused.

"Well, if he’s a hot axe murderer, I might let it slide."

"So you want just to judge my taste in guys."

"Exactly," Raven says, unlocking the door to their place and pushing her way in. "I think you're forgetting the whole  _I'm living vicariously through you_ aspect to this."

"Yeah, I'm really not," Clarke snorts,  flopping down onto the couch and flicking on the TV. "You've mentioned it like forty times today."

"But it worked," Raven points out, stealing the remote off of Clarke to switch on _Parks and Rec,_ like that wasn't the same thing she was about to navigate to. "When you get laid multiple times this week, you'll thank me."

"Promise," Clarke says, knocking her shoulder against Raven's. "Thanks for letting your sex-ban convince me."

"Hey, what are friends for?"

"Apparently for convincing me that I deserve a ton of string-free sex.”

“Apparently.”

Clarke laughs, turning back to the TV even as excitement begins to simmer beneath her skin.

Yeah, a week of meaningless fun sounds pretty damn good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll add tags as they come along, don't want to spoil anything.  
> Question: do people have an idea what this will be about? Just curious.  
> Comments make me very happy.  
> I'm pretty busy atm w uni stuff but hopefully I can update soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, amendments from last chapter: Raven and Clarke met when Raven was in her second year at uni, not third. She's only a year and half older than Clarke. Also, some changes about spring break/ exams etc because I had no idea how american colleges arranged their year. Apparently trimesters or quarters or something. Anyway, not really important.  
> Also I accidentally wrote smut (??????????) and it was super odd but hopefully it's okay because it's the first time I've done that. So, if that isn't really your thing, maybe don't read?  
> If it is, read ahead! Hope you enjoy!

"Alright, how do I look?"

Raven looks Clarke over, gaze assessing. She’s wearing navy skinny jeans and a simple white top, hair down and makeup light. It definitely shouldn't have taken the forty minutes it did to get ready. So she  overanalyses? Whatever.

"Casual but hot," Raven decides, which is at least what she was going for. Clarke nods, runs a hand through her hair. "You're nervous, aren't you?"

"Shut up," Clarke grumbles, brows furrowing. It takes a considerable amount of effort to stop her hands from wringing together. Her nerves for tonight have steadily increased in the few hours she's been home, now making themselves apparent with the butterflies currently taking resident in her stomach, because apparently she has to overthink everything. It'll be better once she's actually out; it's just the  _waiting_ that's the worst. "Anyway, are you ready to go or what? It's already ten to."

"Yeah, 'cause  _I'm_ the one who's holding us up," Raven mutters. When Clarke sends her a look, her lips tick up into an amused smile. "Just let me get my bag." She returns from her room a minute later, eyes on her phone. "Okay, so only the boys are coming," she's saying, following Clarke out of their apartment. "Both Harper and Maya are working."

Clarke hums in acknowledgement as they make their way downstairs and out of the building. It's March, so even in LA there's still a slight chill to the air, but thankfully it's a quick walk. Only fifteen minutes later they're pulling to a stop in front of Grounders, Raven finding Clarke's arm and giving it a quick squeeze.

"You got this, babe," she tells her just before they head in. "But if anything happens, I can pretend to be having an emotional breakdown or something, and we can go home and binge  _Parks and Rec._ "

Clarke grins, smacks a kiss on Raven's cheek. Again, this is how she shows she cares. "Thanks, Rave. You're the best."

"I know."

Grounders is already fairly busy, seeing as it's both a Friday night and the beginning of spring break, but Clarke's able to spot Bellamy through the crowd almost immediately.

And shit, he's just as hot as she remembers. Which -- it was only two days ago, of course he's still hot, but it felt kind of impossible that he was seriously  _that hot._ Clarke was drunk, so she definitely could've had drunk eyes building his attractiveness up in her mind. But apparently she didn't. He was, and continues to be, just that hot.

"The boys are out back," Raven is telling her, and Clarke honestly couldn't say if she's been talking for longer than that, because she's just been tuning everything out. When she only nods in acknowledgement, Raven apparently follows her gaze and settles on Bellamy standing at the bar, because, "Hold up, is your guy the one talking to Murphy?"

And yes, Clarke now realises he is in fact talking to Murphy; even appears to be having a friendly conversation with him, which is bizarre, because -- well, it's  _Murphy._

"Yep," Clarke says, popping the 'p' as she sends Raven a slightly dazed smile.

"Fuck, Clarke."

"Yeah, I know."

Maybe feeling the weight of her and Raven's gazes, Bellamy looks over his shoulder then, face lighting up when he spots her. It makes Clarke grin, feel her excitement for the evening grow. He's so pretty, and really, they got along so well the other night. It'll be fun, spending some time with him. She just has to remind herself that this is  _not a date._

"Well, shit. He's even hotter when I can see his whole face," Raven assesses with a whisper. Clarke shoves her, biting back a laugh. "Okay, okay. I'm going to go see the guys and leave you to it. Come say hi, yeah?"

"Will do," Clarke says, before making her way over to Bellamy. He looks good, dressed simply in black jeans and a white top, perfect against his tan skin, his hair artfully dishevelled, and Clarke tries her best not to check him out too obviously, but it's  _hard,_ okay? Thankfully he doesn't seem to notice, standing when she reaches the bar to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She tries not to blush at that.  _She had sex with him two nights ago._ It's pathetic, really.

"Hey," Bellamy greets, in that deep voice of his, which again she apparently (and thankfully) didn't make up. "You look gorgeous, Clarke."

Clarke smiles, feels her cheeks heat up. "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself," she replies, letting herself look him up and down showily.

He laughs, and it puts her a bit more at ease. Apparently they can just be comfortable with each other already. "Yeah, thanks. Want a drink? I haven't gotten anything yet."

"Yeah," Clarke nods, looking over the bar to find that Murphy has left to go serve other customers, which is probably fair. "What're you feeling? A shot to start the night?"

"Why not."

Clarke grins, ducking around to the back of the bar to grab them two shot glasses. "I work here," she explains as Bellamy's eyebrows shoot up in question. "It has some benefits. A few free drinks a night is one of them." She pours each of them a shot, handing one of the glasses to Bellamy.

"I don't remember you telling me that on Wednesday," he comments.

"If I remember correctly, not a lot of talking was done on Wednesday."

Bellamy smirks at Clarke's coy smile. "Okay, touché, princess." She grins, and they clink the glasses together over the bar before downing their shots, her face reflexively scrunching up at the burn. Bellamy chuckles even with the glare she shoots him. "Thought a bartender would be better at handling their alcohol," he teases.

"Hard liquor has never been a strong point for me," she admits, taking Bellamy's glass back from him before she starts making herself a whiskey and coke. "What do you want?"

"Just a beer, thanks," Bellamy responds, watching her with a lazy smile that is definitely going to be dangerous for her sanity.

She hands it over, and after saying a quick hello and introduction to a sly-smiled Harper as she comes out of the storeroom, leads Bellamy outside.  They find a place to sit close to where the rest of her friends are, and Clarke momentarily worries that her earlier prediction might be true, and they won't have anything to talk about, but thankfully before she's able to freak out, Bellamy speaks up.

"So, who's the girl you walked in with?" He asks, and it's easy to go from there.

"My roommate, Raven," Clarke answers, taking a sip of her drink as she looks past Bellamy. To find four of her friends staring back at her.  _Of course._

She glares, which only serves to prompt Bellamy to look around too. The three boys quickly look away, attempting to appear deep in conversation because they're _idiots_ , while Raven just smirks back at them, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, because of course she does. Clarke glares harder.

"She seems nice," Bellamy muses with an amused smile, taking a quick pull of his drink. "And the other three that are pointedly _not_ looking at us?"

"Wells, Monty and Jasper," she tells him, voice fond. "Wells and I grew up together in Chicago; we've been best friends since I can remember. But Monty and Jas are friends from uni."

"You're in your last year, yeah? Or did I just make that up."

"No, I am," Clarke says with laugh, her smile growing wider when Bellamy ducks his head sheepishly. "It's alright, some of my memories are a little fuzzy as well."

"Glad it's not just me," Bellamy says, sending her a rueful smile. "I didn't know if it was just me getting older; worse hangovers, not remembering as much."

"I don't think that's specific to you, no," she replies, teasing. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty six."

"Okay, so you're an actual person."

Bellamy raises an eyebrow, mouth pulling up into a smirk. "Pretty sure we're all actual people, princess," he says, and she really didn't need to hear him call her  _that_ again. She remembers how she was wearing a stupid tiara on Wednesday night, Jasper insisting it was hilarious when they were a few drinks into the evening and Clarke forgetting she had it on by the time they hit Arker and she started debating with the hot guy at the bar. Bellamy had called her princess from the get go, and she didn't even mind that that's what Finn used to call her, not when he was saying it almost endearingly, smile fond as they continued to get closer throughout the night; not when he whispered it into her skin hours later, making her shiver and blush and  _want._ Clarke blinks, pushing the memory away with great effort to focus on Bellamy now. "I'm not one for robot conspiracies," he's saying, which is at least enough to make her laugh, surprised.

"Shut up, you know what I mean," she says, kicking him under the table. "You have a real, 9-to-5, adult job. You said you were in LA to pitch for a client, right?"

"Yeah, okay," he allows, biting back a smile. "And yes, I am. I'm in marketing. Basically, I work for a company who tries to get other companies to hire us so we can help them sell whatever they're trying to sell."

"Interesting. So is the potential client an actual client client now?"

"Working on it, princess," he chuckles, taking another swig of his beer. "We’ll find out in the next few days."

"So you may not be as good as you think you are," she replies innocently.

His grin becomes a smirk as he leans in closer, wolfish, his voice low as he reminds her, "I got you to message me, didn’t I?"

Clarke's lips twist into a smile, which she hides by sipping at her own drink. "Okay, fair."

It's easy to continue the teasing and flirty back and forth, and soon enough they start telling each other a bit more about themselves, filling in the gaps left out on during their first meeting.

There are, admittedly, quite a lot of gaps to fill. Wednesday night progressed from debating  _Harry Potter_ to flirting to making out fairly quickly, and it was only a couple of hours after they first talked that they were back at his hotel room and Clarke was having some of the best sex of her life. It was a great night, really, but she still doesn't know much about the guy.

Bellamy starts off by talking about his undergrad, double majoring in history and marketing, which is not a combination she expected at all, although one that makes sense the more he talks, face lighting up excitedly as he recounts different stories and interesting facts he's learnt over the years. How unfortunately, his plans to get his masters in history were put on hold when his mum died and getting full-time work became his number one priority, but thankfully he had a neighbour that worked for a growing marketing company who was able to get him a job he was qualified for, but probably didn't have enough experience to get on his own. That in the few years he's been there he's managed to work his way up a little, and that even though it wasn't the original plan, he likes the challenging nature of it.

Clarke responds in turn by talking about her own degree, finishing up with pre-med but having doubts about continuing onto med. It's a little cathartic honestly, being able to speak about it so openly for the first time. She's told Raven and Wells of course, and is trying to find a way to bring it up with her mum, but there's something comforting in knowing that Bellamy won't be here for long. It makes it easier to lay the truth all out there; that really, medicine isn't something she's passionate about, despite the fact that it's been 'the plan' for the past decade, and that she'd probably be good at it.

Thankfully Bellamy responds kindly and encouragingly, and lets her change the topic back to him with ease, a somewhat knowing smile on his face as she asks about his sister. Not that she can say he probably  _minds,_ with the way his eyes light up as he begins talking about her; that she's twenty in a few weeks, about to embark on a trip overseas for an extended period of time, her adventurous spirit taking her to England to work and Europe to travel. He rolls his eyes as he recounts the fight they had about it, but Clarke can tell how much his sister truly means to him.

She tells him about her family after that, how her dad died when she was 17 -- car crash -- and how it only served to push her and her mum apart in the following months, as college applications started coming up and Clarke decided to apply for ones in LA because that's where Jake grew up. The move was good for her, and probably also good for her relationship with her mum, and now that Abby lives here too, moving about a year ago for a better job, they're in a better place to repair what was broken years ago.

It's heavier than she really meant to get, but Bellamy doesn't seem to mind; it's not like he _didn't_ share a few dark snippets of his life. Still, their conversation gets lighter after that, shifting to movies and and TV shows and books and media in general, which they both have a lot of opinions on. Soon they're laughing and chatting and debating away, and after a few more drinks Clarke even feels comfortable enough to admit she wasn't initially planning on texting him.

He looks surprised, but thankfully not offended. "What changed your mind?" He asks, kicking her leg lightly under the table when she ducks her head sheepishly.

"Well, Raven basically forced me to," she tells him, going for a wry grin. "She read this thing in a magazine recently, about the number of sexual partners correlating to something dumb. Like lack of self control or bad self esteem or something else slut-shamey like that, all quoted by 'experts'. Anyway, she got offended, which -- obviously, and decided not to have sex for three months to prove them wrong. Honestly, I don't really know what she was thinking. I'm not sure if she's planning to write into the magazine and let them know what she's doing, and how not getting laid hasn't changed her at all, but either way she somehow convinced me, Jas, Monty and Wells to fork up 25 bucks each if she gets through the three months. Which is a long way of telling you she's feeling sexually deprived because of a self-imposed-sex-ban-turned-bet, and is apparently living vicariously through me."

Bellamy is barely containing his laughter by the time she finishes, shaking his head incredulously. " _Jesus._ Do you even want to be here?"

“No, I do,” Clarke quickly assures, finding his hand across the table. They've been drinking pretty solidly since they got here, with glasses of water in between each drink because Clarke knows what she's about, and the alcohol is enough to make her start playing with his hand without too much embarrassment. It's large and calloused and oh so tempting, and Clarke  _swears_ she can almost feel it on her body like she did just a few nights ago. The thought is enough to bring a flush to her skin, and when she looks up she sees how Bellamy's gaze has darkened, probably stuck on a similar memory. "Anyway, Raven just reminded me I deserve to have some fun. And I do, probably. Fun sounds good."

 _"Fun,"_  Bellamy muses, shuffling closer towards her. Close enough that she can now  _smell him_ , and it's honestly  _not fair_ how good he smells. 

"I'm told I can be fun on occasion," she says, mind going a little fuzzy as his hand moves to her thigh, pulls her a little closer.

"Trust me, princess," he says, low and gravelly. "I know."

He kisses her before she can respond, and Clarke licks the taste of alcohol from his mouth, lets her hand creep up to his t-shirt to pull him closer. It's intoxicating, but thankfully they pull apart before it gets anymore heated. 

"So you're okay with this?" Bellamy asks after a moment, sounding slightly dazed, much to Clarke's appreciation and pride. "Showing me around and maybe having some more _fun._ And then saying goodbye when I leave. No strings attached."

"I’ll try not to fall desperately in love with you," she breathes out on a laugh, pushing at his chest until he gets the picture and stands up. "Now are we leaving or what?"

Bellamy laughs, shakes his head at her. "Yeah, sounds like a plan."

He holds out a hand to pull her up, and after taking it, Clarke leads him over to her friends, attempting to give them all warning looks. She's not at all satisfied with the faux innocent smiles they're wearing.

"Bellamy, this is Raven, Wells, Monty and Jasper," she introduces, pointing them out. "Guys, this is Bellamy." They let out a chorus of _hi,_ and it's then that the smirks start coming. "Anyway, we’re heading out. So I’ll see you guys later?"

"Sure thing, Clarke," Jasper grins. Thinking she got off relatively easily, Clarke starts pulling him towards the exit, only to hear the suggestive, "Have a nice night, Bellamy!", that's called out, which of course spurs on her other friends.

"See you, Bellamy!"

"Good to meet you, Bellamy!"

And then of course a, " Remember I live there too, Griffin!", like Raven wasn't the one originally advocating for this. 

She can still hear the loud laughter of her friends as they step out into the night, but thankfully it's joined by Bellamy's own, so she can't fault them too much. He slings an arm around her shoulder as they walk, presses a kiss to her neck that promises  _so much,_ and she can feel his lips quirk into a grin pretty quickly.

"Your friends are nice."

Clarke snorts a laugh. "Shut up."

The walk back to her apartment definitely takes longer than the walk from, mostly because she and Bellamy can't help but stop every few minutes to make out, but soon enough Clarke's unlocking the door and being pushed up against it. 

In no time at all Bellamy's trailing kisses down her neck, hands moving down her curves while her own slide up to play with the hair at the back of his neck.

"So," she breathes out. "I’m really glad I texted you."

He nibbles at her collarbone before chuckling against it. "Me too," he assures, voice rough and needy and sending all sorts of dirty thoughts through Clarke’s head.

Unable to take even the smallest distance between them, she pulls up his head with a tug of his hair and kisses him. It’s hot and wet and dirty, and any thought other than _Bellamy_ and _bed_ is quickly lost. His hands drift further down her body, firm and sure, until he's squeezing the backs of her thighs and lifting her up. 

When he pulls away, it's just to ask, "Bedroom?"

They’re both breathing heavily, and she takes a few gulps of air before having any capacity to reply. "Hallway. First on the left."

Bellamy nods and turns around, still carrying her, and Clarke locks her legs around his waist and rolls her hips against him. He groans, biting her shoulder in retaliation. 

"You’re making it really difficult to not just throw you on the couch and fuck you there, princess."

She breathes out a laugh, and knows that her apology doesn't sound sincere in the least. Still, they make it to the bedroom, even with Clarke doing her best to distract him with the hot kisses she presses to his shoulder, his neck, his lips. After letting her down on the bed, Clarke quickly pulls off her boots and jeans. Bellamy all but growls when she slips out of her top to reveal her matching set of underwear. They're navy and lacy and she was definitely hoping to get this reaction. Even if it is just a week, she can put in some effort to make it a bit more  _fun._ And, with the way he's looking at her, like he's ready to devour her whole, Clarke's feeling incredibly sexy, which is always a plus for her. 

"Fuck, babe. You look so fucking good."

She laughs, bites down on her bottom lip and notes the way Bellamy's eyes zero in on the movement. "You will too, when you aren't wearing so many clothes," she says, pointed.

Bellamy rolls his eyes at the remark, but toes off his shoes and tugs off his top anyway, revealing his golden tanned chest. She saw him like this two nights ago, but she’s still fucking amazed at how good he looks. He smirks when he sees her appreciative gaze, and slowly -- oh so slowly -- undoes his jeans and climbs over her.

Pressing her into the bed, Bellamy crashes his lips onto hers once more for a heated kiss. It’s fast, all tongue and teeth, but she can’t really give a fuck when his hands are moving down to her body and teasing at the hem of her underwear. Clarke's desperately trying to touch every part of him, her hands moving from his shoulders to his back to his ass and back up again to tug at his hair when his hand slips into her panties. The groan pressed against her neck sends a shiver through her, his fingers sliding over the evidence of her arousal. 

"You’re so fucking wet, princess." She moans as he sucks at the skin just under her ear, moves his hand to rub at her clit. "Next time, I’m gonna taste you, but right now, I just want to fuck you. Is that okay?"

Clarke nods frantically and Bellamy pulls back, smirking at her before she leans up to bring her lips back to his, desperate. Together, they manage to get Clarke out of both her bra and panties, and soon enough his fingers are sliding into her, the ache rough and delicious, arching her back when they hit that spot inside of her. He works her up with his fingers, mouth moving down to give her newly revealed nipples some attention, and soon enough she's desperately pulling him back up, needing more. His eyes are dark and hungry as she pulls him down for a kiss, her whine getting lost in it when he removes his fingers from her.

"Condom?" He pants, pulling back to look at her properly. Clarke's just glad he sounds as wrecked as she feels, because she feels _ridiculously_ wrecked. 

"Bed side table," she responds, letting her eyes fall onto his hard length, still constrained by his underwear.

Bellamy reaches over her and grabs a foil packet from the drawer. He rolls on the condom quickly, and then he's settling himself between her legs, lining himself up as Clarke cants her hips, and slowly pushing into her. Her eyes fall shut at the feel of him, large and heavy and filling her so deliciously, and he gives her a moment to adjust when he's pressed in completely. But soon enough Clarke whines impatiently, and he pulls out, and then fucks back into her, and they begin a pace she knows will have her toes curling quickly.

Clarke grasps up at him as they begin meeting each other's thrusts, pulling him closer. Catching on quickly, Bellamy ducks down to kiss her, and then he’s completely crowding her senses. She can feel him hot against her body, skin to skin, filling her up, can hear the way he moans into her mouth, how his breath hitches when she bites at his lip, can taste the faint alcohol on his tongue and the salt on his skin. She wraps her legs around him and he places wet kisses up and down her neck, biting softly when she digs her fingernails into his back. 

She lets out mutterings of _more_ and _harder_  and _Bellamy_  throughout her moans, and he complies with each request, fucking her just how she wants. Clarke feels the familiar build in her core, and when Bellamy's hand makes its way between them to rub at her clit, arches up into him. He swallows her whines, continues with the fast pace until she's tumbling over the edge, her walls fluttering around him as she comes with a silent moan.  Slowing down slightly, Bellamy lets her ride out her orgasm, pulling himself up to watch her as her eyes flutter and her chest heaves. 

When she comes back down from the high and opens her eyes, he’s gazing down at her, eyes hungry as they looking over her. Clarke moves the hand that’s still working her, breathing a _too much,_ and places it onto the bed, and pulls Bellamy in for another kiss. It quickly deepens, becoming hot and desperate as she locks her legs around him more tightly. He fastens his pace again, and after a few minutes he’s coming with a guttural groan against her shoulder.

They lie like that for a few moments, both catching their breath. 

"I think this is going to be a good week," Bellamy eventually says against her lips, voice deep and gravely, and Clarke laughs, breathy and dazed.

He pulls out carefully, rolling over and getting out of bed to clean himself up. Clarke stays, still a bit dazed, and tells him where the bathroom is, admiring his backside as he leaves the room. Once he comes back she gets up to pee -- she may not go to med school, but she knows that peeing after sex is a must -- admiring the dark marks already developing on her skin when she looks in the mirror. After brushing her teeth and washing the makeup from her face, she makes  her way back to her room, stopping at the sight of Bellamy in her bed. He looks damn good there, even under the blanket, and she admires him for a moment, before he opens his eyes and looks back up to her, lips quirking up.

"Don’t go falling desperately in love with me," Bellamy drawls cheekily.

Clarke laughs as she moves into the room, shutting the door behind her. "I'll try my best" she assures, dry. 

Slipping into bed, back to Bellamy, she checks her phone on the bed side table to make sure no alarms are set. After she's sure that there aren't -- there's nothing worse than an alarm waking you up in the morning when you're allowed the sleep in -- she puts it back down and moves further into the bed to get comfortable.

"Night, Bellamy," she sighs, feels her eyes getting heavy.

"Night, Clarke," Bellamy murmurs in reply, presses a kiss to her shoulder before settling in with his back to her, but close enough that she can feel his warmth.

With her limbs relaxed and her mind going fuzzy, Clarke decides that Raven was right; a week of this is exactly what she needs. And despite what any earlier butterflies might've made her worry, she's pretty confident that she won't develop any serious feelings for Bellamy. He's nice, funny, _obviously_ attractive, and they get along well, and Clarke thinks that maybe if he lived here, there could be something. But he doesn't. He's leaving in a week. And now that she thinks about it, she can't deny that there's something exciting in that too. Letting go for a little while; long enough to have some fun, get laid, and recharge for her final quarter.

So, no, she's not worried.

In fact, Clarke's feeling downright excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Comments will make me very happy and I want to know where you guys think this is heading. Next chapter will take off the next day, and Clarke's going to show Bellamy some LA.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's week in LA with Clarke. She shows him around, and they have a lot of sex.  
> This chapter is basically fluff and some feels later on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really big chapter- whoops! This won't be a normal thing, I just wanted to get his visit done in one chapter. After this, you'll see where the story is heading :)  
> Also idk if anyone notices these things but I changed my username because I'm a paranoid mofo, so if that's confused anyone, I'm just letting you know.

When Clarke wakes up, it's to a familiar ache in her body. The one she woke up to two mornings ago; the one that reminds her of the delicious workout she did the night before. 

Bellamy’s sound asleep beside her, closer than they were last night and legs tangled together,  and she lets herself enjoy the feeling of it for a minute before shuffling out of bed, careful not to wake him.  It’s a little past nine, sun already bright and filtering in through the blinds. It's the kind of thing that might normally annoy her -- being woken by the morning light -- but right now all Clarke can recognise is delightful satisfaction for getting more than nine hours sleep (instead the usual six during uni) and having had a night so well-spent. She stretches, muscles humming in content, and lets her eyes trace over the naked form in her bed appreciatively. It's ten seconds before she decides her appreciation is probably becoming creepy, and averts her gaze in favour of finding some underwear and a big, comfy tee.

She heads out to the kitchen to put on some coffee, careful not to make a huge amount of noise. While she's not doing too badly on the hangover front, Raven didn’t get home till past four (if the sound of someone falling and the subsequent _ow_ was actually her and not an extremely incompetent burglar), so Clarke's being kind to her friend. Or, she's foreseeing a future in which Raven wakes up hangover and unhappy with only five hours sleep, and is hoping to avoid it. Either way, she makes sure to keep noise to a minimum, preparing her coffee and finding a few strawberries to nibble on before setting up at the kitchen bench. 

The news is much of the same as she scrolls through her tablet -- either too boring or too depressing to want to read on a nice Saturday morning -- and Clarke quickly switches over too her social media, lips quirking up when she sees the few messages Jasper left her on Facebook at three in the morning last night. They're all variants of the same thing:  _Clarkey got laid!!!!!_ and while she's still wondering why her friends are so invested in her sex life, she can't help but laugh as she sends off a reply, wishing him luck in what she can imagine will be a very hungover day.

She’s just finishing the last of her coffee, ticking off the last few boxes of a Buzzfeed quiz that tells Clarke her favourite colour is green (wrong), when she hears her bedroom door open, Bellamy emerging from inside, only a pair of briefs sitting low on his hips.

"Morning," he mumbles when he sees her, voice thick with sleep as he makes his way to the kitchen. His hair is all mussed up and his eyes are still half closed, which is definitely not adorable, and  Clarke is absolutely _not_ watching the way his muscles ripple as he begins to stretch out his arms. Well, much.

When she trusts her voice, she turns back around, and lightly asks, "Lost your clothes?" Then, more pointed, "I do have a roommate, you know."

Bellamy makes a non-committal sound, comes up behind her and rests his chin on her shoulder. She pats him on the head, which he seems to appreciate.

"Not a morning person?" She asks. 

She can feel him shake his head as he replies around a yawn, "Not until I’ve had coffee." And then, amused. "Did you just do a Buzzfeed quiz, princess?"

"Yep," she tells him, frowning at the screen in mild disgust. "But my favourite colour is blue."

"Your favourite colour is the colour of your eyes?"

"Hey! I have nice eyes. Anyway, that's not the point. I can't believe they thought my favourite colour was  _green?_ Do I look like a green person to you?"

Bellamy snorts, and when she turns around to look at him, he's shaking his head, smile wide and amused. "God, you’re so fucking young."

"Shut up, you’re only like, four years older than me," she says, poking at his stomach. She keeps at it until he starts to squirm, making a grab for her hand. "Are you one of those people that hates technology?" She asks, when he's finally stopped her assault. Then, solemn. "Do cat gifs keep you up at night, Bellamy? Do you shake your fist to the sky each time someone you hated from high school tries to add you on Facebook?"

"Brat," he shoots, letting go of her hand only to pinch at her side. She yelps, and he grins, satisfied. "Actually," he says, "I'm not really on any social media." She shifts to look at him, screwing up her nose. "What? I just never really saw the appeal."

"Ugh, you’re one of _those_ people. I don't know why I even slept with you."

"I can remind you why, if you want,” he says, innocent"

Clarke rolls her eye, trying to bite back her smile. "I don't think you're grasping the severity of the situation, Bellamy. It's my right, as tour guid-slash-booty call, to Facebook stalk you once you leave. And now I won't be able to."

He laughs, bright and sudden, like he wasn't expecting it, and Clarke knows -- _knows_ \-- that this is the kind of thing she should be embarrassed about. And if she said it to someone she's just gone an actual date with, she would be.  But that's the beauty of it. She's not trying to date him. He's  _leaving_ in a little over a week. It's freeing, in a way, not having to monitor what she's saying a huge amount. And she knows he likes that, too. Her comments could definitely come off as creepy-stalkery to a different audience, but they just seem to be on the same wavelength about this. They can joke, and talk, and fuck, like old friends -- or, maybe friends with benefits -- do, without having to worry.

"I'm sorry I didn't consider you in the decision," he says with a grin. 

"Yeah, well. You should be."

"You really gonna miss me that much?" He teases.

"Please," she scoffs, bringing a hand up to tap his cheek lightly. "I'm only interested in this pretty face."

He chuckles again, and she smiles, stands up and leans up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

"Now, I'm having a shower. Wanna join?"

He doesn’t respond, simply smirks, and without any warning, picks her up bridal style.  She shrieks, loud enough that Raven is likely to wake up. (Well, at least she gave her an extra half hour.)

"Bellamy! Put me the fuck down, you ass!"

She smacks at his chest, but it's to no avail; all he does is laugh, not once breaking his strides to the bathroom. S etting her down on the counter, he quickly locks the door and advances on her, hands finding their way to either side of her, effectively trapping her there. Not that Clarke really minds, when he starts kissing slowly along her jaw.

"Shower sex?" She asks, breathy, as he trails his mouth down her neck, tugging at her top to expose more skin. "Am I already that predictable?"  


"Mhm," he hums against her skin. He looks back up at her with a grin that’s almost feral. "Remember what I said last night?" She frowns slightly, not sure what he’s getting at, before he reminds her. "I said I was going to taste you, princess." Then, nope, she’s isn’t frowning anymore. She’s pretty sure her grin is as feral as his.

She comes twice with his head between her thighs, fingers curling into his hair hard enough to make him grunt the second time she sees stars. Before she can apologise, he’s pulling her into the shower. He fucks her from behind under the stream of water, pressing messy kisses to her shoulder and baring his teeth when she lets out a particularly telling whimper. They both come quickly, having set a hard and fast pace, and after catching their breath, actually get to showering, making out every so often just because they can.

Eventually they make their way back to Clarke's room, once the water starts running a little cold, and she turns her back to Bellamy while getting dressed. She hears him do the same, grumbling under his breath about changing back into last night's clothes. Which admittedly, does suck; putting on clothes that smell of alcohol and smoke is  _gross._  Still, Clarke chuckles, because she's a little mean and is enjoying listening to him sulk.

"Maybe you should bring an overnight bag next time," she coos, teasing, once they're both dressed. 

He rolls his eyes, smile wry. "So domestic." When she  laughs, his smile becomes pleased, more genuine. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

"Well I've got work, so you're on your own today." She frowns, trying to remember -- "Didn't I mention that last night?"

"You must've been preoccupied," he smirks. "But that's fine. I should probably get some work done today, anyway. Maybe I can meet you at the bar when your shift ends."

"I'm not at the bar today, actually. I also work at an art shop," she says, walks over her a mirror to start on her makeup. While hickeys are fun at the time, they aren't the most professional thing, and she should at least try to cover up the one on her neck. "I finish at five though, if you want to get dinner after?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Bellamy says, sitting down on the edge of her bed, which he had apparently straightened out before meeting her in the kitchen. Clarke's decided not to comment. 

"Okay, well I’m working today, Monday, Tuesday, Thursday night and Friday morning. You leave on Sunday, yeah?"

"Yeah. Flight’s in the afternoon."

"Alright cool. I’ll work out what we can do."

"Sounds good."

They chat easily while Clarke finishes getting herself ready, and when she's done, Bellamy accepts her offer for breakfast and a ride back to his hotel after. She makes them eggs on toast, with some bacon on the side, which he likes to steal from her plate. It’s nice, albeit a little domestic, but Clarke decides to just go with it, and when she drops him off before work she doesn't worry about the quick kiss they share in the car. 

Her shift goes by easily, the six hours spent restocking, serving customers, and getting some sketching done when nothing else presents itself. It's a pretty awesome job, not only getting her an employee discount but also giving her time to study in its downtimes. Plus, she doesn’t have to deal with any drunk idiots like she does at the bar, and that's always a positive. They sometimes help run art workshops at the community centre next door, but those shifts mostly goes to Lincoln (he's a lot more patient when dealing with children than she is).

At five, Clarke closes up shop and heads home. After confirming plans with Bellamy, she has a quick shower, debriefs the day with Raven (who is close to _unbearable_ ), and gets herself ready to go out for the night. They end up at one of her favourite Mexican restaurants, and with his agreement, Clarke orders some of her favourite stuff. He laughs when a ridiculously large strawberry margarita is placed in front of him, and Clarke is incredibly smug when he moans in appreciation after the first sip. 

It's as easy as it was the night before, a quick back and forth between them that makes Clarke feel like she's known Bellamy for a lot longer than she actually has. And when they head to a bar a few streets away, that's easy too. He beats her at darts, and she smashes him at pool, and they make out in the back of a Lyft on a way to his hotel, because it's closer. It's less desperate this time, both of them tipsy, laughing into each other's mouths when Clarke gets stuck in her top as Bellamy's trying to pull it off of her, and after, once they're both sleepy and satisfied, Bellamy slides an arm around her waist, curls up behind her.

"'S okay?" He mumbles into her skin, already half asleep.

Clarke hums in confirmation, wiggles back into his chest. "It's fine. Night, Bellamy."

"Night, Clarke."

**

She doesn’t have work on Sunday, and they take advantage of the free time by fooling around and chatting, watching some truly awful TV until they resign themselves to the fact that they need food.

"Ugh, now _I_ have to wear old clothes," she complains in disgust, wrinkling her nose at her top, which smells exactly like a bar. 

"Should’ve brought an overnight bag," Bellamy teases, laughing heartily when she shoots him a glare.

They go back to her place, and Clarke leaves Bellamy to his own devices before heading to the bathroom, very much in need of a long shower and a change of clothes. When she returns to the lounge room, feeling considerably more refreshed, it's to Raven and Bellamy playing their old crappy Nintendo 64. It's the best, and Raven's got every game they own to perfection, but Bellamy seems to be holding his own surprisingly well.

"How long was I gone for?" She asks, leaning over the couch to kiss Raven on the forehead. She tries to duck away, like Clarke knew she would, but doesn't falter in a combination of moves that moves her from third to first position in Mario Kart. Seriously, Raven's awesome.

"Like, twenty minutes. Is there going to be any hot water left? There wasn't any hot water left yesterday morning," she says, pointed.

Bellamy disguises his laugh as a cough fairly well, and Clarke flicks Raven in the ear. "Shut up."

"So, where’re you taking me today?" Bellamy asks, once she's settled on the couch between the pair. 

"I was thinking the zoo."

"The zoo?" He asks, sounding unconvinced but keeping his eyes trained on the screen. "You realise I’m twenty six, right?"

She rolls her eyes. "God, you’re so annoying. The zoo is fun, alright? Plus, it’s nice weather today. Warm and sunny, perfect for the zoo."

"You live in LA. I'm pretty sure warm and sunny is a default here."

"He's got a point there."

"Shut up, Raven. And we’re going to the fucking zoo, Bellamy. Deal with it."

He sighs, loud and theatric, but the smile he shoots her way tells Clarke he doesn't actually mind. 

The thing is, she doesn’t get many chances to do typical touristy things. She's barely got the time to hang out with her friends in a setting that doesn't involve drinking on a Friday night, so most of the places she's thinking of taking Bellamy to, she's never been to herself.

So she's happy to spend her afternoon somewhere as busy and cliche as the zoo, because the sun's out and she's got good company and fun facts about animals are actually really  _fun._ They make their way around to look at most of them, and Clarke's not even surprised when Bellamy tells her his favourite animal is a lion. She doesn't even know him properly, but somehow it just seems so _typical_. 

"They’re kings of the jungle, princess," he tells her. "Of course they’re my favourite."  


She scoffs, and they spend the next half hour debating which animals are the best. They're at least able to agree that turtles are awesome because some of them can breathe out of their butts. 

The afternoon continues nicely. Clarke gets a picture of herself with a butterfly resting on her hand, after Bellamy insists it's worth documenting, and she doesn’t stop him when he slings an arm around her shoulder, tells her to smile for a selfie. She uploads the one of herself with the butterfly, and when Raven comments  _cute date_ on it only a minute later, Clarke finds herself cursing out her best friend for being the _worst_. Still, it's not like Bellamy will ever see it, so she doesn't delete it. It's a cute picture, and she looks nice. Whatever.

They don't leave until a quick kiss feels like it could get out of hand, and Bellamy gets her off as soon as they're back in her bedroom, fingers working her as he mouthes along her neck, her breasts. Clarke returns the favour with a quick hand job, and after, he helps with dinner, teasing her when her skills in the kitchen prove to be quite limited. He's taken over by the time Raven comes out of her room, grumbling about  _goddamn Wick and his goddamn expectations that I can fix all his goddamn problems for him._ She pauses at the sight of Bellamy making them dinner, and Clarke just shrugs. It's not like she's going to complain, when what he's cooking smells so delicious.

They watch _Parks and Rec_ until Raven gets a call and leaves in a huff, and Bellamy's got Clarke lying beneath him on the couch in about thirty seconds flat. She feels like a teenager again, unable to keep her hands off of him, butterflies starting up in her stomach with just a shared heated look.

But she's not sure Raven would be appreciate them having sex on their communal furniture, so she manages to drag him off the couch and to her bedroom before they get too far along in their fun. It's a pretty lazy lay, both of them tired and hazy from a day in the sun, but it's nice and fun, comfortable in a way that Clarke's trying not to let herself think about. After, he pulls her into his chest again, and she tries not to let herself think about that either.

**

Clarke welcomes her shift the next morning, despite it being a nine to five day.

She woke up to a kiss on the forehead and Bellamy telling her he had to head out early, and the disappointment that she felt was enough to shock her fully awake. She was disappointed he couldn't stay the extra _hour_ she'd be home. Honestly.

So she welcomes her shift, because apparently a day's break from Bellamy is just what she needs. Callie, the owner of the store, drops in just around midday to let her know that Lincoln's handed in his notice after being accepted into a fine arts program overseas, but other than that, it's an ordinary shift. She's even able to get a head start on some of her readings and organise a study plan for the upcoming quarter, so it's a productive day in her mind.

And maybe by the end of it she's come to the conclusion that she may be starting to like Bellamy. May be developing something like a crush _._ Not serious feelings, but a _crush._ It's embarrassing, and she almost doesn't accept his offer to come to his room that night, but it's obviously a booty call, and she doesn't want to let her realisation stop her from getting laid. Clarke loves getting laid.

So she packs a bag, because she's working again the next day, and flips Raven off when she laughs as Clarke heads out the door.

Bellamy pulls her into his room as soon as she knocks on the door, crashing his mouth down onto hers and rounding his arms around her back. It's a surprise, but Clarke manages to catch up quickly, dropping her stuff at the door before walking them back to the bed. She pushes him onto it, settles above him so she can grind slow and hard against him, and it's not long until they're both naked and she kissing her way down his chest, his stomach, and taking him in her mouth. His head falls back on the pillow, a muttered swear leaving his lips, and Clarke works him until his fingers are curling into her hair and he's coming with a clipped groan. 

She grins when she sits back up, presses a kiss to Bellamy's lips.

"Well hello to you, too."

Bellamy laughs, pushes up to kiss her properly, not caring that his taste is still on her tongue. "Hi. How was your day?"

"Mm, better now," she decides, and he smirks. "How about you?"

"Better now," he echoes, laughing again when she rolls her eyes. He rolls them over so he's leaning over her, hand moving down her side lightly. "What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

Bellamy's grin is feral, and he kisses her deep and dirty, leaving Clarke breathless, before making his way down her body. He's in a teasing mood apparently, everything slow and delicious but not quite  _there,_ and it's only when Clarke threatens to just get herself off that Bellamy chuckles, and settles in properly, working his mouth and fingers in earnest. She comes quickly after that, and pulls him up until he's pushing into her, slow until she's adjusted and then fast as Clarke urges him on.

After, once they've cleaned up and settled back into bed, Bellamy pulls her into his side, starts kissing along her shoulder languidly as Clarke flicks on the TV. He likes physical affection after sex, she's beginning to realise, and she wonders whether he's always like this, or if the knowledge that he's leaving in a week is giving him an excuse to indulge.

They end up watching reruns of SVU. Bellamy tells her the deal came through with the clients he had been meeting with, and they go another round in celebration. When they fall asleep snuggling close and warm, Clarke knows that whatever she thought she gained from having a day's break from Bellamy is definitely lost now.

**

Tuesday morning has them back in the shower again, fooling around quickly before Clarke has to go to work, because they've got their priorities set straight. Bellamy orders breakfast in to the room while Clarke changes into the clothes she brought (if he thinks it's weird, he doesn't say anything), and she eats in a rush before heading off with a quick kiss, trying get to work on time. 

This time, she's working next door with a holiday program, Lincoln having given her a rundown since she'll be expected to take over this aspect of the job once he leaves, while he mans the shop like she normally does. It’s an exhausting shift, but not as bad as she expected. The kids are full of energy and make a mess, but it’s not because they don’t want to be there, it’s because there are so many things for them to do. That love of art is something she remembers fondly from her childhood, and she’s glad that these kids are discovering it. She even finds out some ten year old's gossip, and how  _Stacey told me that Ryan told her than James told him that I said I liked Adam, and can you even believe that, Clarke?_ She couldn't.

When four o’clock hits and Clarke's finished cleaning up from the afternoon session of kids,  she makes her way back home and lets Raven feed her before getting ready for her next shift at the bar.

She’s working with Murphy, which means it's a pretty good shift. Despite being a bit of an asshole, he doesn't slack off, and they've got a good game going which involves making up life stories of their customers. He's not a bad guy, just a little rough around the edges, but Clarke knows he likes her. Still, she's a little surprised when he asks about Bellamy, using his actual  _name,_ and it's mostly out of shock that she explains the situation. Not that she wouldn't when not shocked; he's not the kind of person that would judge her for this. Honestly, he seems almost impressed.

"Didn’t think you had it in you, princess."

Clarke throws a glare his way, passing over a glass for him to snack. "Did Bellamy tell you to call me that?"

Murphy laughs, simply shrugs before stepping away to serve a customer. Later, they decide the guy is a demon-hunter, travelling across America to find the monster that killed his boyfriend. 

By the time she makes it home, it's twelve thirty, and utterly exhausted, Clarke falls into bed, asleep in thirty seconds flat. It's past ten when she wakes up the following morning, warm and relaxed and incredibly relieved that she has the entire day off. She sends off a message to Bellamy, letting him know that she's made plans for them for the day, and receives a _coming over now_ only a few minutes later. 

He's joined her in bed within twenty minutes, mouth on her own and hand slipping into her pyjama shorts. 

After, when she's still dazed from her second orgasm, he says, "I missed you last night."

Clarke laughs. "We had sex yesterday morning," she points out.

He nuzzles his head into the crook of her neck and yawns. "Still."  She can't help the giddy smile that pulls on her lips. "So, where're you taking me today?"

She perks up at that, proud of the day she's planned for them. "Well, after discovering that you're such a nerd, I thought we could go to The Huntington. They've got a library with a huge collection that I reckon you'd really like, and a few different galleries, too. Plus, the Botanical Gardens, which are apparently really beautiful, especially this time of year. What do you reckon?"

"I'm not sure liking history makes me a nerd, but that sounds really great."

"It does," Clarke assures him, her smile teasing. Leaning forward, she presses a quick kiss to his lips. "But good, I've been wanting to go there for a while."

Their afternoon is spent exploring, wandering through the different exhibits and later the gardens.

Bellamy loves the collections they have, just as Clarke suspected he would, and she sees his passion first hand in the way he shares little facts with her here and there, or how eagerly he soaks up any information he can. They talk about their favourite books growing up, and she learns that his mum used to read him stories about ancient civilisations when he was young.

"So you've always been a nerd, then?" She teases, grinning when he huffs out a laugh. "I can see it. A little baby nerd Bellamy."

"Shut up," he grumbles, cheeks tinging pink. He seems to debate with himself for a moment before continuing. "Although I guess you're not too far off. I, uh, actually named my sister.”"

"Octavia?" She asks, surprised.

"Yeah," he says, clears his throat before soldiering on. "We'd just been reading about Augustus, the first Roman emperor, when she was born. Mum told me I could name her, and, well -- Augustus had a sister called Octavia. It felt fitting."

He's rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed by the story, and Clarke feels a rush of affection for him. Slipping her hand into his free one, she stops him in the aisle, leans up to press a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet.

"That's really sweet, Bellamy."

His cheeks are still pink, and he still looks embarrassed, but his eyes have gone soft and his smile pleased. "Well she was angry every time we couldn't find a keychain with her name on it, but I think it's grown on her."

"I doubt there'd be many keychains with Bellamy on it, either," she points out. "At least you could suffer together."

Bellamy laughs, squeezes her hand, and they keep on walking.

The gardens are beautiful once they finally make it outside -- exploring the collection of books and art took a few hours -- and the sun shines nice and bright in the sky, making Clarke feel warm and a little sleepy. It's another hour of wandering around, sketching the cooler plants that they discover, before her legs are tired enough to call it a day, and it's after a lot of complaining that Bellamy lets her have a piggyback ride to the car. 

They laze around at her apartment for the rest of the afternoon, making out and watching a documentary on Netflix when Bellamy insists, but eventually they have to get up again, because Clarke's plans for the day aren't over.

"Dinner, then the Griffith Observatory," she tells Bellamy, tugging on his arm in an attempt to get him out of her bed. "Come _on._ It's  _space,_ Bellamy.  _Space._ "

He laughs, finally standing up only to pull her into him. "I can't believe you spent the day calling me a nerd when you're this excited about space."

Clarke screws up her nose, pokes out her tongue. "Shut up."

They grab some Chinese at a place close by before heading over to Griffith Observatory, which she maintains is really fucking cool. She's been with Raven a few times before, because they both love space, but it's different with Bellamy. Romantic, in a way, which is incredibly cliche. But there's a show in the planetarium, and the expanse of a star-filled sky above, no matter how fake, is gorgeous; Clarke can't help that it's a cliched romantic setting that she's falling for.

They have a go on the telescopes after, and share a kiss under the expanse of a real star-filled sky above, and Clarke can't help but think it's the kind of kiss that screams of possibilities, not endings.

**

Thursday starts out in a way Clarke's quickly becoming used to, with the press of lips moving along her shoulder and a happy sigh leaving her mouth. She lets Bellamy work her up until she can't take it, rolling them over so she's on top and in control. She rides him hard and fast until they're both out of breath, sharing short, desperate kisses before coming undone together. Slumping down on his chest, Bellamy's hand tracing the curve of her spine, Clarke's tempted to just go back to sleep, but she's got work later in the day, which means she has to make the most of the morning with him. 

She takes him the the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and he hates it. 

She knew he would, because there are a million people around, some of which who are dressed as superheroes and keep approaching them, trying to dupe tourists out of a buck or two. Bellamy grumbles in annoyance, and Clarke laughs, but he does let her take a photo of him with Superwoman, which is more than she was expecting. It's not all bad either; there's some cool Hollywood history that Bellamy actually enjoys, and when a guy asks whether he'd like a caricature, he says yes. It's of them, huge heads, tiny bodies, and holding hands, and Clarke slips it into her bag, knowing that Raven will give her  _endless_ shit for it.

They decide to go to the beach after that, and stroll along until they reach Santa Monica Pier. After looking around for a while, Bellamy convinces her to go into the water with him.

"Only to my knees," she tells him, because the lack of planning means no towels or bathers, and driving home in wet clothes sounds awful.

"Of course," he tells her, so genuine that she believes him, follows him out. 

Only to be betrayed when he splashes her. And not a little splash, either; his hands are weirdly large and can apparently deliver a lot of water. 

"Bellamy, you fucker!" She squeals, trying to jump away without getting anymore wet, to little success.

"What can I say, I’m a rebel."

"You're an asshole, is what you are," Clarke grumbles, and when he just laughs harder, she decides that revenge is the best response.

Splashing him back, she tries to get him distracted enough to push him over, but Bellamy's like a bloody tree with his feet planted in the sand, and he won't budge. Instead, he uses Clarke's momentum against her, which is how she ends up toppling right over. But if she's going down, Bellamy's coming with her. Keeping her hands gripped firm around his arms, Clarke manages to pull him down as well, and then they're both soaked and play-fighting and laughing. It only ends when Bellamy tugs on her arm, pulls her close enough that he can kiss her.

They head off a little while later, Clarke needing to get ready for her shift at the bar and Bellamy having to get some work done. She uses his jumper as a towel, and grins saccharine sweet when he throws her a glare.

Thursday shifts are probably her least favourite during break, because they've got cheap drinks on tap and half price basics, and people at college are happy to take full advantage now that exams are over. But she starts early which means she doesn't have to stay until close, and she's working with Harper and Anya, so it could be worse.

By the time Clarke gets home, she's tired, but not exhausted enough that she doesn't want to see Bellamy. He texted earlier saying he'd come by when her shift ended, and when she reaches the lounge room she sees that he's already here,  sitting on the couch with Raven, watching _Troy_ and apparently grumbling about it.

"Honestly, did they do any fucking research before they made this damn film?" He's asking, and Raven sighs. This has probably been going on since he got here. 

She drops her bag on the counter, loud enough that both of them turn around. Clarke ignores how Bellamy's smile makes her stomach flutter.

"Oh, Clarke, thank god. Your boy’s been complaining about the bloody historical inaccuracies of this film for the past half hour."

"Well, if you’d chosen a better film--" he starts.

"I never asked you to watch it with me! This is _my_ apartment, remember?"

He at least looks sheepish at that, turns back to Clarke. "Sorry, I thought you’d be back earlier."

She grins, leans over the couch to kiss him quickly. "All good. We got a late rush of people so I stayed for an extra thirty minutes to help out. Anyway, I’m gonna have a shower." She starts walking to the bathroom, pauses when he doesn't follow and looks back to him. "You coming?"

He looks from the TV, to Clarke, and back to the TV again, which makes her laugh. He's like a lost puppy not knowing where to go.

"You don’t have to."

"No, it’s not... It’s just--"

"Your boy enjoys talking shit about the movie, is what I think he’s trying to say," Raven interrupts. 

"He’s not ‘my boy’," Clarke says as Bellamy grumbles "Do not", getting up off the couch to follow her.

He goes down on her in the shower, one leg flung over his shoulder while her fingers curl into his hair, and Clarke's not sure it’s a particularly safe environment, but she’s a little preoccupied to have too many concerns over health and safety. 

They make it to her room, and fool around a bit until the exhaustion from the day finally gets to her. She falls asleep with her head on Bellamy's chest, and his fingers carding through her hair.

She's only working until two on Friday, because the shop closes up early going into the weekend. The fives hours pass quickly, and Clarke feels her excitement grow over her plans for the rest of the day; by the time she's knocking on Bellamy's door she can hardly keep a grin off her face. She immediately orders him to have a shower and get changed, and after denying his request to join him in there, Clarke sets out to find what she's looking for.

It's easy to, the navy and orange jersey standing out in the number of shirts and tops he has, and Clarke carefully takes it, placing it in her bag. It's maybe a little bit creepy to be going through his drawers, but she knows it'll be worth it. 

She's able to keep the surprise for most of the drive, but it becomes pretty obvious when the stadium comes into view,  _Lakers vs Knicks_ flashing bright on every sign. He's gaping at her when she glances over to him, and Clarke laughs happily. They got into discussing teams they follow a few nights ago, and Clarke found out he was a pretty hardcore Knicks fan, even bringing his jersey with him to LA for a bit of luck. She's more of a Chicago Bulls girl herself, but the Lakers were her dad's team, and she still has his jersey. Which was incredibly convenient when those two teams were playing, and she was able to find them a pair of tickets. 

"Fuck, princess. I owe you."

Clarke laughs. "I'll be sure to remember that."

He kisses her after they find a park, and she gives him his jersey to change into while she takes off her jumper to reveal her own. They're able to navigate their way into the stadium easily enough, and sit down with a drink and some snacks.  The crowd is a sea of purple and gold, with some navy and orange mixed through as well, all loud and cheering as the teams come out. It's a great game, but the Knicks get it in the end, and Clarke finds that the only way to shut up Bellamy's insufferable comments is by kissing him.

It's weird to think that it's been a week since this began; simultaneously feeling too much in how quick it's gone and not enough for how her feelings have grown. She likes Bellamy; he's nice and funny and sweet and smart, and they get along so well it's a little unbelievable. The sex is awesome, and his company is just as great, and Clarke knows that watching him leave will be difficult. But she's not naive. His life isn't here, and it's not like a week with her is going to change that. She doesn't _want_ a week with her to change that; it's -- that would be too much, definitely. But she does wish his life was just already here; that she could keep seeing him.  

Yes, she realises she's screwed.

They stop on the way back to her place, grabbing some stuff from the supermarket to make dinner, and get in right as Raven's heading out. 

"People are at Grounders," she tells them. "Come later?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Clarke says, smiling at her friend. 

They end up getting distracted enough that they have to turn off the pasta sauce so it doesn't burn, and only make it back to the kitchen an hour later, both satisfied and fresh from a quick shower. Bellamy finishes off dinner while Clarke does her makeup, and they eat in front of the TV before finally deciding they should head out again.

Apparently all of her friends are at Grounders; Harper and Raven doing shots at the bar, Monty and Wells talking to Murphy in their usual booth, and Maya and Jasper playing darts. Clarke immediately turns to Bellamy, asks if he wants to go home. 

He rolls his eyes, says, "You worry too much, princess."

"Sorry for trying to be considerate," she grumbles.

Bellamy laughs, presses a kiss to her hair. "Thank you for being considerate, but it's unnecessary. I'm totally down for a night out with your friends."

"If you say so."

After grabbing some drinks and introducing Bellamy to Harper properly, they all head back to the booth, huddling in with the tight squeeze. Apparently Murphy's decided to hang out with them for the night, which is a little bizarre, and when Clarke raises her eyebrows Raven just shrugs, tells her that when he finished his shift he sat down with them without a word. Maya and Jasper join them soon after, Maya victorious after their game of darts and enjoying a drink at her boyfriend's expense because of it, and Clarke takes the time to reintroduce everyone again, just because there's so many of them here.

It's odd, like she's introducing her boyfriend to her ragtag group of friends for the first time; it doesn't help that that's also what it feels like, hand in Bellamy's under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze when he seems a little flustered at everyone's names.

But soon enough drinks are flowing, and it's easy to have Bellamy as just another one of them. He fits in well, keeping up with Raven's snark and talking krav maga with Harper, discussing education reform with Wells and listening to Monty and Jasper ramble on about robotics competitions. They laugh and they joke and they banter, and Clarke knows that if he lived in LA, this is where he'd fit in.

They end up at the pool tables, and she once again beats Bellamy easily, and then Monty, and then Wells. It's only when Raven and Harper challenge them to a game that she loses, and Clarke scowls when Harper sinks the winning shot, blaming Bellamy for letting the team down. He gets her another drink, and kisses her on the mouth briefly, and she reluctantly forgives him.

It isn't until he starts using dirty tactics while versing each other in darts that Clarke decides it's time to go home. Pressing his lips against her neck and talking lowly in her ear, Clarke misses the board completely. She's mostly impressed she didn't end up throwing the dart  _at_ someone. 

The goodbyes that follow are odd, a little bittersweet even for her friends, after only one night. They all seem to like Bellamy, and Bellamy seems to like them too, but it's not like any of them are going to see him again. So it's  _nice to meet you_ s and  _have a good trip back_ s, and Clarke's just hoping she can come up with something that doesn't feel so weak when she's the one that has to say goodbye. It dampens her mood as they head back to her place; the inevitable end to Bellamy's trip, to what was meant to be a week-long holiday from the same-old.

Bellamy makes her forget though, in a way that already feels so familiar. He goes down on her for what feels like hours, fucking her with his fingers, sucking at her clit, and by the time she pulls him up,  _needing him,_ she's desperate enough to tell him not to bother with a condom.

"I'm clean," she says between kisses, drawing him in with her legs. "And on the pill. And I trust you."

"Fuck," Bellamy breathes out, pulling back to catch her gaze, earnest. "Shit, okay. I'm clean too."

He presses into her a moment later, and  _fuck_ \-- it feels so fucking good without anything between them. She urges him on quickly, muttering desperately into his skin as he fucks into her sweet and slow, and when she flutters around him he follows her only a few thrusts later, forehead pressed against her own.

After they've cleaned up, slipped into some pyjamas (he actually did start leaving some clothes at her place), he pulls her into his chest. 

"Night, princess."

She hums, smiles into his skin. "Night, Bell."

**

They wake up late the next day, past ten, which is a longer sleep in than Clarke had anticipated, but her plans are still viable. She’s only distracted for ten minutes of kissing before she pushes Bellamy away, tells him they need to get a start on breakfast. It's apple pikelets, and it gets rid of any inklings of a hangover that Clarke was feeling, which is much appreciated. They stopped drinking early last night upon her orders, and that thankfully means no headache or worry of throwing up.

But it also means that Bellamy won't stop pestering her about what they're doing, because she was mean and wanted to keep her plans a secret.

"Just give me a ballpark here, Clarke," he says, downing the last bits of his coffee and looking at her with a pleading expression. "Indoors or outdoors? Buying lunch or bringing lunch? Will there be access to internet?"

She rolls her eyes at his theatrics, leans down to shut him up with a kiss. "Sneakers," she tells him. "That's all I'm saying."

They head off around half past eleven, after Clarke brings Raven some water and aspirin, lets her know they won't be back until late. Bellamy's suspicious of her cheeky grin, looking at her with narrowed eyes when they've been on the road for half an hour and she still hasn't given in.

"I’m not going to be found dead in a ditch tomorrow, am I?"

She scoffs. "Please. If I were killing you, I’d make sure you wouldn’t be found at all." Then, with a smirk, "I think you’re forgetting how creative Raven is."

It’s not until another ten minutes have passed that an exit sign gives it a way. 

"Disneyland?" Bellamy asks, incredulous. "You’re taking me to goddamn Disneyland, princess?"

She laughs at his stunned expression. "What's wrong with Disneyland? It’s a classic!"

He shakes his head, but soon he's laughing too, and Clarke can see the way his grin grows from the corner of her eye. When they walk into the happiest place on earth around twelve thirty, his excitement almost matches hers, only dampened a little at the sheer number of people around.

"It's all part of the experience," she tells him, knocking her shoulder against his and offering a smile. "Just be thankful you don't have to worry about small children throwing tantrums."

Bellamy laughs, shakes his head. "If you says so."

"I do. Now, I hope you like roller coasters, because I fucking love them."

Bellamy grins, takes her hand. "Bring it."

It's an incredibly fun afternoon, and the sound of Bellamy's laughter, the smile plastered to his face, tells Clarke that it was a good decision to bring him here on his last day. She convinces him to go on every ride she’d planned, and finds out that if she says it like a challenge, he's more likely to agree quicker. They take photos, with each other and with different Disney characters, and spend way too long in front of mirrors that distort your body, laughing hysterically. She buys herself Minnie Mouse ears and Bellamy a tiara, and they only take them off for the rides; it makes him easier to spot on the occasions they get separated in the crowd. They go to a ridiculously expensive themed restaurant for dinner, ordering waffles with whipped cream and maple syrup, bacon and eggs that actually come out arranged in a smiley face, and when the waitress offers to take their picture, Bellamy's quick to say yes, handing her his own phone instead of Clarke's.

It's getting dark by the time they head in to watch a show, _Aladdin_ , which is amazing, even with Bellamy whispering her lyrics in an attempt to make her laugh. And when it's over, she takes him to one last event of the night. It's the _World of Colour_ show, and it’s incredible to watch; once again feeling romantic, just like the planetarium did. 

Bellamy kisses her softly underneath the fireworks, slow and with enough feeling that her chest curls up hot and tight. It's a feeling that almost stings in its weight, both too much and not enough, which is probably how she would describe all of her feelings towards Bellamy right now.

The drive home is quieter, tinged with an undeniable bittersweetness under their light comments. When they make it up to her apartment, Bellamy kisses her deep and passionate, pushes her onto the bed and takes his time working her up slow, pressing his lips along her chest and running his tongue down her stomach. Clarke comes with his thumb on her clit and his tongue inside her, and she pulls him up when she comes down from the high, needing more. It's a slow, deep grind of their hips against each other, Bellamy making it last until Clarke can't think straight, and when they finally come they're sharing hot and messy kisses.

It feels like goodbye, she knows, when he takes his time before pulling out, rolling over so they can get out of bed and clean themselves up. It feels like goodbye when they brush their teeth together in the bathroom, laughing softly when Bellamy gets toothpaste on his nose. It feels like goodbye when they get back into bed, and he pulls her in so they're looking at each other, legs tangled and eyes heavy with sleep.

And Clarke is so  _tired;_ both physically and emotionally drained, because it feels like goodbye and she wasn't meant to care this much. But she does. 

"You’re a pretty cool guy," she whispers after a little while, smiling when his eyes flutter, in a way she's already recognising he does when he hears something he's not expecting.

He smiles, soft and a little sad. "You’re a pretty cool girl."

They’re silent for a few minutes, and Clarke tries not to close her eyes, wanting to prolong the moment. But Bellamy breaks it anyway.

"I don't do relationships," he says suddenly, making her open her eyes, surprised. He looks like he's mentally berating himself at the blunt statement, brows furrowed before he turns his gaze to her. His eyes are earnest, apologetic even. "I just mean, I'm not that guy. I'm not the boyfriend you take home to meet your parents, Clarke; I'm the one night stand you have to get over a breakup."

"Bellamy," Clarke starts, but he shakes his head -- as best as he can in his position, anyway.

"Just-- this week has been amazing, Clarke. A lot more than I was expecting or even hoping for. And you -- you've been incredible." She smiles, finds his hand between them and gives it a squeeze, nods for him to continue. "I know I'm leaving tomorrow, so it doesn't make a difference, but. Even if I lived here, you wouldn't want to date me. I'm not good at relationships; I don't do them. I'd fuck things up, and I just -- I'd never want you to hate me, Clarke."

It sounds like he's trying to convince himself as much as he is her, and Clarke wants to protest, but he's right -- it doesn't make a difference. He's leaving, and telling him that she could never hate him, convincing him that if he were staying, they could be good,  _amazing_ even, isn't going to change that. 

So she lets him say it, and doesn't protest, because it might be what they both need.

Instead, Clarke leans forward, presses a gentle kiss to Bellamy's lips. He makes a noise in surprise, but pulls her in closer, like it's just a natural instinct now.

"It's okay," she says, when she pulls away. He doesn't look convinced, so she smiles, tries for teasing, "It's not like I'm looking for a long-distance relationship with a guy who's telling me he's bad at committing, Bellamy." He chuckles then, tension draining from his shoulders. "Anyway, I thought I told you I only wanted you for your body."

His lips pull into a small smirk at that. "I thought it was my pretty face."

"Both are good," she assures him, and then lets herself say, "If you're ever back in LA, though, don't be a stranger, okay?"  


Smile becoming softer, he squeezes her hand. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They rearrange themselves after that, so Bellamy's pressed against her back, warm and close and with an arm wrapped around her waist.  It's a relief of sorts, having that conversation, because it dispels the wonder Clarke knows would've been there if they hadn't talked. It still hurts, still makes her sad knowing there's no future between them, but it is a relief.

"Night, Bell," she sighs, feels everything catch up to her; the exhaustion from this whirlwind of a week pulling her towards sleep.

She feels lips against her shoulder, hears a murmured, "Night, princess," against her skin, and then she's out like a light.

**

Bellamy's still asleep when Clarke wakes up the next morning, curls wild and face crumpled and looking adorable. It makes her heart pang, but Clarke ignores it, determined not to get stuck on her emotions and instead give Bellamy the best send off she can. She starts by lightly skimming her hand up his arm and across his chest, following the action soon after with her mouth. It's enough to wake him up, and before she knows it he's pulling her up for a quick kiss.

Clarke smiles and he nuzzles into her cheek.

"What time's your flight?"

"Four. Airport by two thirty."

Clarke leans away, checks her phone and smiles; it's only nine. "That's _hours_ away."

Bellamy grins, begins to run a hand slowly up her side. "Yeah? What to you want to do in that time?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things," she says, keeping her voice low and leaning in. To smack a kiss onto his cheek. "Breakfast first, though. I need sustenance and you're a better cook than me."

He laughs, unabashedly taking her in as she stands up, riffles through her drawer to pull on a top. When she sends him a pointed look he sighs, gets up and gets dressed.

Raven's left a note on the kitchen counter, saying she's had to go into work for the day, and Clarke's honestly not sure whether it's true, or if she just wanted to clear out and give them space. Either way, she sends her a text, tells her to have a good day and that she'll be dropping Bellamy at the airport later, before turning her attention back to Bellamy himself. She helps him make french toast, which mostly involves grabbing the stuff he needs so he can do everything else.

"I'm honestly not sure how you survive on your own," he tells her as the bread sizzles away in the pan, looking over his shoulder to send her a smirk.

"Hey, I can cook," she says, offended. "I just happen to prefer things like pasta and ramen noodles."

"Keep telling yourself that, princess."

She throws a tea towel at his back, but can't stay too annoyed when breakfast tastes like  _heaven_ , topped with strawberries and banana and maple syrup. Bellamy tastes like it when she kisses him, and then they're stumbling back to her room, pulling off their clothes and getting their hands onto each other, hot and desperate.

It's how the next few hours go; staying in bed, kissing and fucking and watching TV in between rounds, having fun and being silly and even learning some more about each other. His birthday's December 14th, the scar above his lip is from a fistfight in high school, and he's scared of seals.

"Everyone thinks they're cute, Clarke," he tries to explain, while she laughs and laughs and laugh. "But they're not. Have you seen them in action? They're fucking  _terrifying._ "

"Stop," she wheezes out, trying to heave in enough air to keep her alive, but Bellamy's indignant expression just sets her onto another round of giggles.

It's not until Clarke tells him they have to leave in an hour that the mood shifts, once again becoming bittersweet; this thing they'd been ignoring now glaringly obvious. Their kisses become drawn-out and desperate, the weight of their hands heavier than they were before, like each of them are trying to memorise the other while they still can. When Bellamy pushes into her Clarke sighs, closes her eyes with the familiar stretch, the weight of him above her.

It's slow and building, legs hitched up so she can draw him in deeper, pull him in closer, and when Clarke's close Bellamy puts his fingers to her, murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he drives her over the edge. She comes with a broken moan, clenches around him in a way that makes him speed up and follow her quickly, and after, they just lie with each other, sharing sweet and slow kisses until they know they have to get up and get ready.

She drives him back to his hotel to checkout, and then to the airport to checkin. Bellamy asks her if she can stay until he has to board, and Clarke says yes, squeezing his hand in silent comfort to them both. After grabbing a coffee each they make their way to the departure area, Clarke nestling into his side, and a silence quickly settles over them, both apparently lost in thought.

She could love him.

Barely a week and a half and Clarke knows that she could love him. She doesn't, not now, but if they had more time, she could. More time to learn each other, and to trust each other, and to make each other laugh and smile, get angry and frustrated and deliriously happy. More time so they could fall.

But they don't, because life isn't a movie that ends with love confessions and plans to move across the country for someone. Not that she actually wants that. It's just -- it's weird, saying goodbye to something that feels so good, so  _promising;_  to someone that makes her happy. Weird and painful.

Eventually they start talking again, but they keep it light, trying to pull small laughs from each other. When the flight starts boarding, they stay seated until the last few people are standing up and heading in, and then Clarke knows her time's up.

She smiles up at him, despite knowing it's weak, and Bellamy's returning one is about the same. He presses his lips to her forehead.

"I’d be god awful boyfriend, princess," he murmurs against her skin.

Clarke laughs, the sound coming out watery, and nods as he pulls her into a hug. Clinging to him tight, she lets herself nuzzle her face into the crook of his neck, breathe him in.

"It was really great getting to know you, Clarke," he tells her after a minute, low and serious.

"It was really great getting to know you, too, Bellamy," she says in return.

When he pulls back he smiles, and she’s even able to return a more genuine one of her own.

"And just remember, you’ll be the first person I call when I’m back in town."

Clarke laughs again, ducks her head with a shaky smile. "I better be."

Eyes softening, he looks at her, earnest. "You will be. Promise."

With that, Bellamy picks up his carry-on, gives her one last smile before turning to the boarding gate security. But -- she can't leave it at that. She just can't. Clarke reaches out, grabs his arm so he looks back to her. She offers him a small smile and his eyes drop to her lips before looking back to her, a question in them. Clarke nods. He drops his bag. One hand moves to cup her face, the other settling on her neck while Clarke's own curl into the fabric of his t-shirt. Bellamy looks into her eyes for a few long moments, thumb stroking slowly along her cheek. They move at the same time, Clarke leaning up while Bellamy ducks down, lips meeting somewhere in the middle. It's a slow kiss, deep and consuming in the emotions poured into it, and Clarke gets lost in the way his tongue moves against hers, the already familiar slide of their lips past one another. When they break away, they don't move far, Bellamy resting his forehead against hers, just breathing each other in. He's still stroking her cheek, and Clarke's hands have moved from his top into his hair.

She makes herself let go, pull away. Bellamy's eyes are still closed when she does.

She picks up his back and slings it onto his shoulder, and his hand finds hers, gives it a squeeze.

"I'll see you around, princess."

Clarke nods, smiles. "Yeah. See you around, Bell."

When he turns away this time, Clarke lets him, and watches as he goes through security, then hands over his ticket to a flight attendant. After the woman looks at it, he turns back around, sends her a smile and wave, which she returns.

An d then he’s gone. 

She waits for a few minutes, not really sure why, until she decides it's time to head home. Back to reality; back to the same old. She starts uni again tomorrow, and there's some more work she can do to get a head start on classes.

She doesn't do it. Instead when Clarke gets home, she turns on the TV and tries not to think about the fact that Bellamy would've just taken off.

Raven gets back a little while later, phone to her ear and telling Jasper off if her tone is any indication. But one look at Clarke sitting on the couch, a glass of red wine in her hand and tears in her eyes, has her telling whoever is it that she has to go. She joins Clarke on the couch, pulls her close without a word and begins carding a hand through her hair. She doesn't say anything, just lets Clarke cry quietly as _Parks and Rec_ plays in the background. Pizza turns up an hour later, so she must've ordered something without Clarke noticing. They eat in silence until Clarke speaks up.

"I’ll be alright," she tells Raven, voice watery but still strong with conviction. "I think I just need to be sad for a day or two."

Raven turns to her, offers a sympathetic smile. "You’re allowed to be sad for a day or two, babe. For however long you're sad for."

Clarke nods, snuggles back into Raven's side. She feels a surge of gratitude for her best friend in that moment; no judgement, no need for an explanation, just there to offer comfort. 

They continue to watch _Parks and Rec_ , and soon enough Clarke's laughing along with Raven, the tightness in her chest finding some relief.  Just after nine, she gets a text from Bellamy.

 **Bellamy:**  Thought I’d let you know that I've arrived safely. O picked me up and is currently interrogating me, asking why I have a hickey on my neck, so thanks for that.  
But really, thank you for an amazing week, Clarke. It was really great getting to know you.

 **Clarke:** I'd be lying if I said I was sorry about the hickey, and I'll have you know that I'm sporting far more than you are.  
Thanks for an amazing week, and for letting me know you arrived safely. The sex (and your pretty face) will be greatly missed.  
And it was really great getting to know you, too, Bellamy. Good luck with everything in NY.  
And if you're ever in LA again, give me a call.

**Bellamy:** Wouldn't dare not to, princess. Good luck with your  studies, I know you'll do great. Bell XX

Clarke's not sure how to respond to that. _Thanks, have a nice life,_ doesn’t really seem appropriate, so she decides to leave it _._

It's a little surreal knowing that he's gone after spending over a week almost completely in his company; that he's left her life justas quickly as he came. She gets ready for bed, but her sheets smell like Bellamy and sex, and not in a comforting way, so she crawls in with Raven instead. Tired from an emotionally exhausted day, Clarke falls asleep quickly, not knowing that part of Bellamy stayed in LA with her.

She doesn’t find that out for another six weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuuun. Were you sad? I was sad writing it and almost wanted to make them declare their love or something, but that went against the main idea of this entire story.  
> Did you guys see this coming? (I'm guessing you got my not so subtle last line).  
> Thoughts/ feelings? Did you like their dates and interactions? Comments will make me very happy!!  
> Next chapter won't have Bellamy in it, and will be over the course of a longer time period.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but basically: finding out some surprising news.  
> ___________________________
> 
> NOTE: reposted

Clarke hasn’t heard from Bellamy in over a month.

A month without any calls, or texts, or surprising Facebook friend requests. To be fair, she hasn't tried contacting him either, so she figures she doesn't have any right to be upset. And regardless of the disappointment that's occasionally (and frustratingly) gnawed in her stomach, Clarke knows that it's easier this way. Easier just to sever all ties, and not draw out the process painfully.

And she's okay, as well. She can't deny that the first week after Bellamy left was tough, sorting through her things for the upcoming uni quarter only to find her Minnie Mouse ears from their day at Disneyland, or reaching out for him blindly in bed, before she had properly woken up and remembered he'd gone back to New York. But soon enough she was thrown back into uni and work, and she didn't have a huge amount of time to mope and contemplate a future she knows wouldn't exist regardless of if Bellamy was here. He didn't do relationships; it's what she keeps telling herself.

It's exactly one month before Clarke has to sit the last exam she'll ever take as an undergrad, that finds her and Raven once again strolling through the drugstore. There's a sale on, and Clarke's feeling crappy and stressed, and Raven all but forced her out of her bedroom-turned-hellishly-messy-study. To get some fresh air, and to indulge in some new makeup.

The past week has been busy and stressful, with Clarke both finishing off her degree and making the decision not to continue on to med school. Which means, basically for the first time ever, she doesn't know what she's doing when she finishes in June, and that makes Clarke nervous. Still, it was the right decision, and her nerves over the unknown definitely outweigh the uneasiness and stress that came whenever she thought about another four years completing a degree she didn't particularly want. Bellamy was part of the decision, Clarke knows, but Raven was the one to finally convince Clarke to call her mum and make it official. 

It went better than expected; not living up to the classic Griffin showdown that Clarke's well-versed in.  They're still on shaky ground, but Clarke honestly can't blame Abby for needing some time to adjust when she had no indication that Clarke was having doubts. And she knows that her mum is just looking out for her, that it’s hard for her not to think Clarke's just throwing her future away. But Abby reluctantly accepted what Clarke said, and while she didn’t exactly _need_ her permission, she was happy to receive her some-what support.

But while Clarke's definitely relieved knowing that she won't be doing something she doesn't love, that still leaves one burning question: _what the hell is she_ _going to do instead?_

“Just work for a year and figure it out,” Raven tells her, not for the first time in the last week. “You’re only twenty two, Clarke. It’s not like your life will be over if you don’t choose something straight away.” 

Clarke sighs, “I know you’re right, Rave, but you know me; I hate not having a plan.”

“I know,” Raven says. “It's why you're so uptight.”

Clarke throws a glare at her friend. “Shut up.” Raven simply cackles, dodging Clarke's hand as she makes to slap her in the arm.

“Seriously, I thought getting laid would help, but a month back at uni and you're all stressed and tense again.”

Clarke ignores her, instead nods to her side of the aisle and says, “Grab some aspirin.”

Raven does, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously? That bad?”

“Yeah. I just feel shitty at the moment, I don't know,” she says, rolling out her shoulders in an attempt to relieve some of the tension that's been permanently etched into her muscles.

Raven frowns. “You think you’re getting sick?”

“I don't think so. I've been achey for like, a week or two? And pretty tired, too. If I was getting sick I think I'd have gotten worse by now.”

“It's probably just stress,” Raven reasons, looking Clarke up and down appraisingly, as though she could figure out what's wrong with her by eye. "With everything that's been going on, your body’s probably just like _fuck,_ you know?"

“Maybe,” Clarke says, unsure. She knows how she feels when she's busy and stressed, and it's not like this. This is different, more like she's about to get her period, but it's been going on for too long to be that. 

It hits her all at once, and Clarke stops in her tracks, feels her breath catch and her chest tighten.

She skipped her period last month; hasn't had one since, well. Since before Bellamy.

Clarke stops Raven, curling a hand around her arm. 

Raven glances at her, concerned. “What’s up?”

Clarke's eyes are wide and she swallows past the lump that’s formed in her throat. “Raven, I think I’m pregnant,” she whispers.

Shock flashes across Raven's face before she steps in front of Clarke, puts her hands on her shoulders to regard her seriously.  “Because you feel sick? Clarke, you might just be coming down with something."

Clarke shakes her head and swallows again, trying to keep her throat from closing up. “I haven’t had my period in a while.” She closes her eyes before continuing. “A while as in before Bellamy.”

When she opens her eyes, Raven’s gaping at her. “How could you not realise you missed your period for an entire month?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke winces. “I’ve been busy. It just...didn't crossed my mind.”

Raven's brow furrows; Clarke can see her mind working, trying to come up with an alternative explanation. “You’re on the pill. Maybe you just skipped the week for your period and don’t remember?”

Clarke shakes her head again. “I didn't. I, uh -- I actually went off the pill about two weeks ago, because…” she scrubs a hand over her face, huffs out a humourless laugh. “Because I was feeling sick and thought my hormones were out of whack.”

Raven closes her eyes, her face scrunching up a bit. “But you were safe?” When Clarke doesn’t respond she snaps her eyes open.

“We may not’ve used a condom every time,” Clarke admits, thinking back to that night after the bar with everyone. She pushes the memory away when Raven shoots her a stern look. “What? I was on the pill and we were both clean! You can’t tell me you’ve used one every single time you've had sex with a guy.”

Raven huffs a breath and nods. “Okay, point.” When Clarke doesn't reply she softens, reaches down to take her hand gently. “We should probably get a test to make sure, yeah?”

Clarke nods, feels tears prickle at the back of her eyes. Figures this is the newest development, with how far off track everything else with Bellamy went. It was supposed to a week of meaningless fun.

Raven starts pulling Clarke along and she follows blindly, barely registering the tests Raven grabs on the way to the checkout. They're out of the store only two minutes after the first thought of pregnancy even crossed her mind, Raven keeping a hold of Clarke's hand as they walk back to their apartment quickly.

**

Her phone confirms what Clarke already knew: she hasn't had her period in almost two months.

She's sitting on the couch, eyes set on the app, and wondering how on earth she missed it. Not her period -- Clarke's pretty sure she knows why she missed _that_. But she doesn't know how she missed missing her period. She's an organised person, always has been, and while she can't say that her period comes every four weeks on the dot, unless she skips it with the pill, it does always come. And as an organised person, she should've noticed that it didn't.  _She_ _can't believe she didn't notice._

They've been home for close to half an hour now, and even though Clarke knows she should, she can't bring herself to take the test. She knows what the result will be. But still, there's a feeling of doubt, because she doesn't  _know._  She could be wrong. Stress is definitely a reason people skip their periods, and probably has symptoms that are similar to early pregnancy. This could all be a scare, one she knows would take a while to move on from, but -- well, less time than a pregnancy would. Less time than raising a child would. She'd be raising a  _child._ A real life human, that would rely on her to  _live._

She doesn't want to take the test.

She can feel the weight of Raven's gaze on her as she paces around the living room, even though Clarke's own eyes are focussed on the way her hands are wringing together in her lap. Neither of them have said a word since arriving home, and honestly, it's a surprise that Raven's waited as long as she has before snapping.

“Clarke!” She yells, and it's enough to make Clarke look up, see that her friend is looking at her with a combination of frustration and concern. But whatever expression she's wearing makes Raven's face soften, and she comes down to crouch in front of her, taking her hands. “I know this is scary, babe. But whatever happens we can deal with it, okay? The first step is taking the test, and then we go from there.”

Clarke nods, releases a shaky breath, and lets Raven help her up from the couch. She takes the tests and heads into the bathroom.

Raven waits with her, after she's read the instructions and manoeuvred enough to pee on the stick. They sit on the bathroom floor with their backs against the counter, a three minute timer counting down next to them.

When it chirps, there are two red positive signs. 

She can see Raven watching her from the corner of her eye, but Clarke just keeps staring at those fucking plus symbols. _Life changing plus symbols._ Without saying a word, she gets up and walks to the kitchen. Raven follows, watches on hesitantly as Clarke pulls out their largest glass, fills it with water, and skulls. Jaw set in determination, she goes back to the bathroom and opens another packet.

Three tests later, they're sitting back against the counter. All four tests are lined up in front of them; eight red positive signs clear as day.

“Well, fuck.”

Raven puts her hand on Clarke's shoulder, careful. “It'll be okay, babe.”

“ _Okay?_ ” Clarke demands, turning around to face Raven. And punch her in the arm.

“Ow!” She grumbles, rubbing her arm. “What the fuck was that for?”

“This is your fault,” Clarke says, shrill, continuing when Raven gives her an incredulous look. “Yeah, you! You and that stupid fucking bet. I never would’ve texted Bellamy if you hadn’t used your sexless life to guilt trip me.”

It's probably not entirely true; Raven’s ability to convince Clarke into doing something she doesn’t want to is almost worrying. If it hadn’t been the argument of the sex ban, it would’ve been something else. But it's easier to be hysterical than think logically right now.

“Is this some kind of breakdown? Are you having a breakdown right now?”

“Of course I’m having a breakdown! I’m fucking pregnant, Raven!”  Before she can even respond, Clarke bursts out laughing. Raven looks at her with wide, alarmed eyes, obviously unsure what to do with the outburst. “Oh my god, I’m pregnant,” she says between gasps of air. “From a guy I knew for a week and haven’t spoken to in six.”

She starts laughing again, feels the hysteria bubble up into her chest, and soon enough Raven's joining in, the absurdity of the situation too much to deal with. It feels good, if she's being honest. Better than crying, which Clarke's sure is what she's meant to be doing right now, instead. But eventually the energy rattling around in her body calms down, and Clarke feels her smile fall.

Raven watches her, eyes concerned.

She takes a deep breath. In and then out. “I'm pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Woah.”

“Woah.”

“This is like, a life changing event right here.”

Raven takes her hands, runs a soothing thumb over her palm. “Only if you want it to be,” she says, careful. “You have options. You know that, right? And I’ll support you whatever decision you make.”

Fuck. Options. Of course she has options. 

And it would be ridiculous of Clarke not to think this through completely, consider each of them thoroughly. But she can't deny the tug that she feels; that even though pregnancy has only been on her mind all of forty minutes, she can't think about anything except keeping the baby.  


She shakes her head, looks down at her crossed legs. “I don't think I could have an abortion,” she tells Raven quietly. “I just -- I don't know. I'm completely pro-choice, and I would never condemn anyone else for their own decision, but. I just don't think I could do it.” She worries her lip, looks back up at Raven. “It's ridiculous that I've made that decision in less than a minute, right?”

“If you know it's not what you want to do, you know,” Raven tells her, squeezing Clarke's hand in comfort. “You don't have to justify it, Clarke. Especially not to me.”

Clarke nods, offers her friend a shaky smile. She's so incredibly lucky to have Raven. Always, but particularly right now.

She pulls her into a hug, and Clarke tucks her face into her neck. 

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Raven says, quiet, but with enough conviction that Clarke finds herself smiling a little.

“Thanks, Rave.” 

**

Within an hour, Raven’s set up a doctor’s appointment. 

“Wednesday at 11,” she tells Clarke, slumping down next to her on the couch, a tub of ice cream and two spoons in hand. _Community_  is running on the TV, but it's mostly background noise to Clarke, her mind running too wildly to follow what's happening. “I can come with you, but I'll have to go into work after. ”

“No, that's fine. I have work at one, anyway. But that'd be good, having company. Thanks.” She offers Raven a weak smile, accepting the tub of ice cream. “So I have four days to prepare.”

“It was the earliest I could get in,” Raven says, sympathetic.

“No, that's not -- thanks, Rave, for organising it. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She rolls her eyes, shoves Clarke lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey, I have a baby on board!” Clarke chastises lightly. Raven's eyes bulge, and she looks halfway between choking on air and laughing.  “Sorry,” Clarke says, sheepish. She shakes her head as if to clear it, snorts at her own lack of tact. “Bad joke. It's been a weird day.”

Raven chuckles, snatching the ice cream back from Clarke. “I don’t think weird is the word I’d use. But yeah, it has been.”

The rest of the afternoon passes probably as easily as it can in the situation she's in. Meaning that Clarke doesn't break down crying or freaking out, but she does spend a solid hour googling things about pregnancy, only stopping when Raven forcefully takes her laptop from her. She sleeps restlessly that night, once again tucked into Raven's side, and manages to find comfort in the fact that morning sickness is something she's yet to have experienced.

**

The following day is Mother’s Day, which feels like the universe's way of laughing at Clarke.

Thankfully Abby's working, so she doesn't have to worry about coming up with an excuse not to see her. Three pregnancy tests but no confirmation from a doctor puts her in a state of limbo, knowing but not  _knowing,_ and she doesn't want to have to deal with a day with her mum like that. Clarke can't tell her until she's certain herself.  So it's a relief, not having to worry about it for at least a little while longer.

Instead, she spends the day at home, foregoing Raven's offer to have brunch with her own mother, and huddles into bed with way too many pillows and another whole tub of ice cream. If she is pregnant, it's probably something she needs to stop indulging in.

Her day starts out quite productive, Clarke finishing off an essay and catching up on some anatomy notes, but by mid afternoon she's scrolling through an online childrenswear store, looking at fucking  _baby clothes._ It is, by all accounts, a _terrible_ idea, and if Clarke was smarter, she wouldn't be doing it. But she's not, and with her emotions running high, it's not long before she's losing it over a tiny onesie with even tinier elephants on it.

The emotional exhaustion of the past twenty four hours finally catching up to her, Clarke just lets herself cry, clutching tight onto one pillow and sobbing into another. She hasn't cried so hard in years, probably not since her dad died, and a renewed surge of grief hits her with the thought. Her dad, who'd be so incredibly supportive, will never meet his grandchild. He won't be someone Clarke will have to tell; won't be there to look at ultrasound photos, or coo over little baby clothes. He won't meet Bellamy, or interrogate him in a way Clarke's sure he'd want to, if he was here. And  _Bellamy._ After trying her best to not think about him these past few weeks, trying to get over heartbreak she didn't think she deserved to feel, she'll have to tell him. Call him up from halfway across the country and let him know that he's going to be a father. If he event  _wants_ to be a dad. He said he's not a relationship guy, but he also told her that he practically raised his sister. And he's a good person, Clarke knows that. He'll want to be a part of the baby's life, even if he doesn't want to be involved with Clarke herself. She has to believe that.

It's then that Clarke realises she's thinking about this baby as a complete, real thing, not four pregnancy tests waiting for confirmation on Wednesday, and when she stops crying she realises she's got a hand pressed against her stomach, almost -- _protective_. It sends her into another tailspin of emotion and hazy, half-formed thoughts, but eventually exhaustion wins over, the combination of a restless sleep and an hour of crying draining her of any energy, and Clarke falls asleep, not caring that it's still light out.

**

It's still dark when she wakes up next, and Clarke checks her phone to find it's just past five in the morning. She must've gotten almost 12 hours of sleep last night, but considering her much clearer head and surprisingly well-rested body, the extra hours were probably a good idea, even if she slightly screwed up her sleeping pattern. Her laptop's not on her bed, and her slippers aren't on her feet, so she assumes Raven came in to check on her when she got home, something Clarke figures will be happening more frequently now.

It makes her feel happy, knowing she's got unconditional support already, and when Clarke eventually gets up, she decides to make Raven some pancakes as a thank you. She'll need to learn how to cook properly, Clarke realises, but for now, she can do pancakes. Raven's running late as always, and only stays long enough to stack some pancakes in a container, smack a kiss onto Clarke's cheek, and call out a  _thank you_ before she's running out the door.

Clarke laughs as she watches her go, starting in on her own stack of pancakes. She decides to start a list of things she needs to think about in the next few days, hoping it will help focus her for the rest of the day.

  1. _Get results - freak out?_
  2. _Call Bellamy_
  3. _Tell mum_
  4. _Tell friends eventually_
  5. _Uni arrangements/grad programs_
  6. _Work arrangements/working in a bar/maternity leave_
  7. _Freak out_
  8. _Buy a pregnancy book?_
  9. _Living arrangements_
  10. _Accept that you’re going to get fat_
  11. _Can you buy nice maternity clothes?_
  12. _Write a proper list if you’re actually pregnant_



It helps Clarke clear her mind enough to get herself ready for uni, and by the time she heads off she's even feeling a little better, having come up within something of a plan, no matter how crude. It's a slow day, and spends a lot of her time researching both the validity of home pregnancy tests, and what a positive can mean if it's not pregnancy. It throws her a little, but she's saved from spiralling when a boy next to her in her anatomy lecture sniggers, glancing at her laptop screen, and she puts all her energy into throwing glares his way and giving off a  _fuck you_ vibe.

Raven's making dinner when she gets home, and Clarke finds the list she left on the kitchen counter written over.

  1. _Get results -_ ~~ _freak out?_~~ ** _You can handle this_**
  2. _Call Bellamy_ ** _Probably a good idea_**
  3. _Tell mum_ ** _I can come with you if you want_**
  4. _Tell friends_ _eventually_ _**Just remember t**_ ** _hey’ll think something's up if you stop drinking_**
  5. _Uni arrangements/grad programs_ ** _I’ll help you look this up_**
  6. _Work arrangements _/working in a bar/maternity leave__ ** _Grounders is non-smoking so you can still  
work there? And I’ll punch anyone giving you shit about maternity leave-- even Anya herself_**
  7. _Freak out_ ** _Read 1._**
  8. _Buy a pregnancy book?_ ** _A whole book? Just research online you weirdo_**
  9. _Living arrangements_ ** _I’m not kicking you out_**
  10. _Accept that you’re going to get_ _ ~~fat~~  _ ** _even better tits that usual!_**
  11. _Can you buy nice maternity clothes?_ ** _Probably, but I bet they’re fucking expensive_**
  12. _Write a proper list if you’re actually pregnant_ ** _Good idea- this one was crap :)_**



Clarke snorts at the list and Raven shoots her a pleased grin. Whatever happens, she knows she has her best friend on her side.

**

Tuesday goes by in a blur. She's working all day, and spends her time drawing a familiar pair of eyes, dark and warm all at one, soft, mussed curls and strong, calloused hands. He's been on her mind the last few days -- how could he not be? -- and Clarke knows that whatever happens, it'll take a long time before she's able to stop thinking about him, if ever. 

Lincoln comes in around three to pick up some supplies he's left in the backroom, and Clarke gives him a hug, wishes him luck with his program in England. They've never been particularly close, but she'll miss his warm smiles and the cheeky comments he makes when they see each other.

“I'll be back in a few years,” he tells her, just as he's heading off. “If everything goes to plan.”

“And I'll still be here,” she jokes, although it's probably not too far off base. 

After he leaves, Clarke wonders whether the next time she sees him, she'll have a child.

**

She and Raven spend the following morning huddled up in bed together, aggressively not talking about what's on both of their minds as they watch  _How to Train your Dragon._ It's one of Clarke's go to feel-good movies, and with her appointment at the doctor's later in the day, she definitely needs it. But unfortunately she has to return to reality, and she finds herself sitting in the waiting room, hand held in Raven's, until seventeen past eleven.

Nyko Peters calls her up, and they run through a list of questions, ending with him asking about her last period.

“17th to the 20th of March,” Clarke tells him, thankful that any embarrassment she might normally feel doesn't come. This whole thing is too surreal for her to feel embarrassed, honestly.

He taps away at his computer before looking back to her. “If you’ve done four at-home tests, I'm pretty confident that any test you take here will be positive. But, I’m just going to get you to do one more, and then we can do a transabdominal ultrasound, okay?”

“Okay.” 

He passes her a test that she is already so familiar with, and Clarke  goes to the bathroom. Five minutes later, she gets the result she knew she would. This time it’s two pink lines, instead of two red positive signs.

“Okay, Clarke,” Nyko says as he ushers a woman into the room. “This is Emori Jacobs, our ultrasound technician. She’s going to perform a transabdominal ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy.”

Clarke nods and smiles at Emori, holding onto Raven’s hand firmly. Emori gestures for Clarke to sit on the table. 

“So, Clarke. Nyko tells me that the first day of your last period was the 17th of March. Is that correct?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, great,” Emori says, sitting down to face Clarke properly. She goes on to explain the ultrasound she’ll be performing and what the possible outcomes will be, and after asking Clarke if she's ready, gestures for her to lie down on the ultrasound table. “Now just pull your top up for me,” she asks, setting up the machine and getting the probe ready. Clarke does. “Okay, now the gel might be a little cool, but that's normal so don't worry.”

“Okay,” Clarke breathes out, reaching out for Raven's hand once more. The gel  _is_ cool, which feels incredibly cliche, but Clarke keeps her eyes on the screen as Emori starts to move the probe over her stomach.

She stops soon enough, when what is definitely  _something_ comes up on the screen. “There,” she says, pointing out the tiny white, bean-shaped smudge. 

Her grip tightens around Raven’s hand and her eyes begin to prickle with tears. “Oh my god,” Clarke whispers, completely flawed by the rush of emotion she feels so suddenly. But she's looking at her  _baby,_ and it makes something warm and fuzzy curl up in her chest, even with the underlying nerves hammering away.

She's snapped out of her reverie when Raven pulls her hand away, and Clarke glimpses over to find her brushing a few tears from beneath her eyes.

“Shut up,” Raven huffs when she catches Clarke's look of shock. She can count on one hand the number of times she's seen Raven cry.

Clarke lets out a surprised laugh, the sound coming out watery with tears, before turning back to look at the screen. It doesn't look like much of anything -- not what her ultrasounds will look like in the coming months -- but it still  _is,_ and there's something so thrilling about that. Clarke's never been particularly maternal, but she already feels so much for this baby. _Her_ baby.

“Holy shit,” she says.

“Yeah,” Raven agrees.

After giving them some time, Emori begins to explain how the baby is -- looking normal, with a strong heartbeat. 

“It's all looking great, Clarke,” she says with a smile. “Given the dates you’ve given me and what I can see on the ultrasound, I'd say you’re eight and a half weeks along. The baby's about the size of a raspberry at the moment.” 

She prints off a few photos, handing them to Clarke after she cleans off her stomach. 

“You’ve got a Christmas baby on your hands,” she says. “The due date is the 22nd of December.”

_Christmas baby,_ Clarke thinks as she looks down at the pictures, feels a smile pulling at her lips. _Just like Bellamy._

After the ultrasound, Nyko returns, offering his congratulations before diving into the next step of the appointment. With her pregnancy confirmed, he asks some further questions on her medical history, takes a blood sample, and completes a physical exam, before scheduling another appointment for a few weeks' away.

He gives her a few pamphlets on the way out, and Clarke makes a note to read through them and come up with something of a game-plan in the next few days. But for the moment, she has work, and so does Raven.

“You'll be okay?” Raven asks as they make their way back to the car park.

“Yeah, I think so. It's a lot, obviously, but -- I should be able to get through my shift. Might be a good distraction.”

Raven snorts a laugh, sending Clarke a look that says _really?_ “Yeah. Good luck with that, babe.”

“Shut up.” They reach their cars and Raven pulls her in for a hug. “I'll be okay at least until I finish my shift. Promise.”

“Okay. And after that, you can freak out as much as you need.”

“Thanks, Rave. You're the best.”

“I know,” Raven says, smiling when she pulls away. “Now get your ass in gear. You start in an hour.”

**

In all fairness, she gets through over half of her shift without freaking out. And she probably could've made it all the way through, too. It may be a Wednesday afternoon, but there's enough work to do that she's rarely not doing anything, which means she doesn't have time to overthink everything.

But then she goes into the backroom to grab some gum from her bag, and the ultrasound pictures slip out of it, right there in front of her, and it's impossible to pretend like everything's normal. She's happy -- surprisingly so -- but she's also scared and anxious, and all of a sudden it makes her feel so  _young._  She  _is_ young, and right now she needs to do what you do when you're a child and you're scared. She needs to see her mum.

Atom covers for her easily enough, and with Harper coming in in an hour Clarke tries not to feel too guilty. After walking back to her apartment complex, she gets back into her car and drives over to her mum's place.

It's Marcus who answers the door, visibly surprised to see Clarke, which is probably fair. She hasn't been back since she and Abby fought over school. It's almost funny now, thinking back to that -- how insignificant it feels in this moment.

“She's asleep in bed,” he tells her, taking in her most likely dishevelled appearance as he lets her inside. “Got home about half an hour ago after a pretty long shift. Can I get you anything?”

“No,” Clarke says, shooting Marcus a thankful smile. He's a good guy, even if Clarke doesn't know him extremely well. “Thanks, Marcus.”

Clarke heads to the stairs, taking them two at a time until she gets to the upstairs foyer. Abby's asleep when Clarke reaches her and Marcus' bedroom, and she slips in quietly, toeing off her shoes before sliding into bed next to her mum. She's always been a light sleeper, and she opens her eyes, brows furrowing when they land on Clarke. 

“Clarke,” she says, voice sleepy but already laced with concern. “Honey, are you okay? What’re you doing here?”

Clarke nods, but she can already feel tears gathering. “I'm okay, but-- I have to tell you something.”

Abby sits up, grasping Clarke's hands and running a thumb over them. It's soothing, which only serves to make Clarke want to cry more. “Is this about school?” Abby asks, face drawn in worry. “Because I've thought about what you said, honey, and you have my full support. Truly.”

It's then that Clarke finally lets a few tears slip, because without Abby actually knowing what's going on, it's a pretty perfect thing to hear. It's this Abby that Clarke needs; the one that loves her unconditionally and supports her no matter what.

“Thanks, Mum,” Clarke sniffles, brushing her tears from her cheeks. She releases a shaky breath, looking down at her lap before she finds the confidence to look Abby straight in the eye. “But that’s not it.” A pause, and then, “I’m pregnant.”

Abby's mouth opens and closes a few times, her brows furrowing as she obviously searches for something to say. But she doesn't seem to find anything, so Clarke keeps talking.

“I had an ultrasound today,” she explains, and she can feel her breathing become less even; her throat start to close up with tears.  “And I just,” she shakes her head, choking on her words. “I just needed my mum,” she says finally, chest wavering as she gasps for air.

Abby's face softens completely, and she pulls Clarke into her arms, stroking her back soothingly.

“Oh, baby girl,” she whispers into her ear, begins rocking her back and forth . “You’re okay. You’re okay. Just let it out.”

They stay like that for while, until Clarke's breathing evens out and her throat doesn't feel so closed up. She feels herself relax, feels her eyes get heavy, and soon enough she's falling asleep, still in Abby's arms. 

When Clarke wakes up, it's past seven, she's got seven missed calls from Raven, and she's alone in her mum's bed. She can hear chattering downstairs, and follows the sound only to find Abby and Raven at the kitchen counter while Marcus stirs something on the stove.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Raven calls out when she notices her.

“Hey,” Clarke says, still a little groggy. “What’re you doing here?”

“Well, when  _someone_ didn’t tell me they wouldn’t be coming home tonight I got worried. So I called Abby and she told me you were here and invited me over."

“Oh,” Clarke says, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks, Mum."

“Of course, sweetie,” Abby replies, shuffling her seat over so Clarke can take the one in between her and Raven. “But we should probably have a serious talk now.”

Clarke nods, hands wringing in her lap as Marcus hands over three bowls of rice and curry.

“I’ll head upstairs and leave you guys to it,” he tells them. Before he walks out of the kitchen, he turns back. “And congratulations, Clarke."

Clarke smiles, a little sheepish but also genuine. “Thanks, Marcus. Sorry for intruding."

He just chuckles, before leaving the three of them to talk.

“So,” Abby starts, turning to face Clarke as best as she can, “Raven hasn’t told me much, so you’ll have to explain to me what’s going on.”

Clarke nods, wondering what the best way to explain everything is. It’s the first time she'll be recounting the whole story to someone, and she doesn't really know how. Raven finds her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, smiling at her encouragingly. Clarke takes a deep breath, looks back to her mum.

“To summarise: I’m pregnant, I’ve decided to keep the baby, and the father is a guy I met called Bellamy.”

“And not to summarise,” Abby prompts.

So Clarke relays the situation to her mum. It's awkward, and she mostly skims over the  _no strings attached_ arrangement she and Bellamy made, doesn't even mention that she developed real feelings for him in the time he was here, but it feels good to get it out. Cathartic, or something. She finishes the story by pulling out the photo tucked into her bag, hands it over to her mum.

Abby gasps, looking close to inspect it. A small smile grows on her face.

“I should probably call him,” Clarke says, after Abby hands it back.

“I think that’d be best, honey,” Abby replies. 

“Do you want to do it now?” Raven asks. “You know, with us here to support you?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

Grabbing her phone, Clarke makes her way to the adjoining lounge area, finding a blanket and pulling it over her as she sits down on the couch. Raven and Abby stay sitting at the counter, close but still giving her some privacy, which she's immensely grateful for. After taking a few deep breaths, trying to find her confidence, Clarke navigates to her contacts and pulls up Bellamy's number.

But whatever she was expecting when she pressed call, it wasn’t this. 

_The number you have called is not connected._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry  
> Bellamy- where u at?  
> Ps. If ur a scatter brain like me and forget about your period all the time use this app called SimplePeriod it's rly good and free!  
> Next chapter: pregnancy


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First- I reposted last chapter with some changes, so you may want to re read. If not, it's not too different, so you shouldn't be too lost. On that note, a massive massive thank you to MissMarissa for being so lovely and telling me about pregnancy confirmation!  
> Second- this is a pretty long chapter! Sorry they've all been different lengths, but this covers a long time period, so.... kinda had to be long.  
> Third- I will pre apologise for lack of Bellamy in this chapter. He will be back next one, promise!  
> Fourth- thank you for the crazy support. Your comments have made me smile so many times!!  
> Hope you enjoy!

Clarke tries four more times, each and every time receiving the same automated message -- _The number you have called is not connected --_ before she gives up.

The combination of defeat and shock has her shuffling back into the kitchen, mouth slack and phone clenched tightly in her hand. Raven takes one look at her before jumping off her seat, face drawn in anger. 

"What the fuck did he say?" She asks lowly, unsurprisingly ready for a fight.

"He didn't say anything," Clarke whispers, shaking her head.

Raven's face darkens, eyes flashing with rage. "He hung up on you?" She guesses, mouth flattening into a grim line. "I'm going to _kill_ that mother fucker."

Clarke can only shake her head again, throat too tight to correct her friend. The lump in there is hard to swallow past, but the hand Abby tentatively places on her arm helps.

"Clarke?" Her mum asks, gentle.

"I couldn't get through," she says, looking down at her phone in disbelief. "His phone's been disconnected or something."

Raven's head snaps up, and she snatches the phone from Clarke's hand before she can protest. She dials Bellamy's number as both Clarke and Abby watch on, and Clarke can see the exact moment the message plays, Raven's nose screwing up and her eyes turning confused.

But it's all too much, all of a sudden, and Clarke feels her stomach tightening and her mouth growing wet.

She makes it to the bathroom just before she heaves up her stomach's contents, unsure whether it's morning sickness coming on with awful timing, or the sickening realisation that she has no other way of contacting Bellamy.

Raven and Abby are next to her in a second, her friend rubbing soothing circles onto her back while her mum offers words Clarke's sure are meant to be reassuring.

But she can't take any of it in, not with the way her head's rushing with too many emotions. Resting it on the toilet seat, she feels tears begin to prickle behind her eyes and anxiety settle deep in her belly.

Or maybe that's just the baby.

"Fuck."

**

It's another hour before she makes it back home with Raven. They both sleep in Clarke's bed, Raven pulling her in and hugging her tight, talking about a project she's currently working on. It's a welcome distraction; what she needs right now; a perfect combination of normal and comforting when her whole world has been turned upside down. Twice.

She has uni the next day, and with exams approaching quickly, actually has to go to her classes.

Of course, it's hard to concentrate on any material her profs are going through, so the day feels wasted regardless. It's not surprising, but it is frustrating, and it gets even more so when anxieties her mind was too clouded to come up with last night hit her.

"I can't do this by myself," Clarke voices to Raven later in the evening, the words that have been bouncing around in her head all day bubbling out of her almost hysterically. She's teary and her breaths are harsh and wavering and she wants nothing more than a glass of wine or four, which makes her feel even worse. "And I don't know how to contact Bellamy," she continues, feeling her tears begin to fall, rolling down her cheeks quickly. "And I'm going to go through everything by myself, and I'm going to be a shit mother, and my baby's going to hate me."

Raven wraps her up and rocks her gently until Clarke's sobs turn to quiet tears, and eventually her breathing evens out.

"I feel like I've cried more in this past week than I have in the last year," Clarke says quietly, wiping at her face. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this."

Raven gives her a stern look. "Clarke, don't fucking apologise. I'll have you remember that I've cleaned vomit out of your hair before." Clarke laughs, surprised, and Raven's returning smile is a little triumphant. "If I can deal with that, I can deal with anything."

Clarke shakes her head, a small but grateful smile pulling at her lips. "And if we went through Finn and survived, everything else is child's play?"

"I'm not sure if that was meant to be a pun, but yes. Besides," she adds, knocking her shoulder against Clarke's. "If your best friend isn't there for you when you accidentally get knocked up and can’t contact the father, when is she there for you?”

Clarke snorts, turning to Raven to send her an eye roll.

"What? Too soon?"

Clarke shoves her. "Shut the fuck up."

"Never," Raven shoots back, offering Clarke a smile. "Come on, let's have some dinner."  


Raven cooks up some pasta, which Clarke's thankfully able to eat without any nausea. They watch some HGTV show, and it's a few episodes in that Clarke brings up her anxieties again.

"What am I going to do?" She asks quietly, during an ad break. "I don't know how to get in touch with Bellamy. I don't have anyone that will--"

“You have me, Clarke,” Raven interrupts, gentle but firm. “I told you: I’m here with you every step. And you have your mum. And you’ll have all of our friends once you tell them. We’ll all be with you every step of the way.”

“Really?”

Raven scoffs. “Of course. You’re gonna get annoyed with how much we bother you.”

She’s quiet for a moment, taking a deep breath before she voices one of the things that's probably unsettling her the most. "The baby isn’t going to have a father," she says, feeling guilty just saying it. It's not the  _father_  part that bothers her specifically; she's got male friends, and she's sure she can fit whatever traditionally fatherly roles might arise in the future. And regardless, there's all the chance that one day, she'll have a kid with a woman she loves.

So the Dad thing, as a concept, isn't it. It's that the baby won't have a second parent; that Clarke will be a single mum from the very first moment.

And it's that it isn't just a father; it's  _Bellamy._

"Neither did I, Clarke," Raven tells her, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "And I'm fine. That kid's going to have so many people loving it, it won't know what to do."

Clarke nods, and while it's not enough to make her feel completely better, it does help. "Thanks, Rave." 

She tells Wells two weeks later, when they're studying together.

She wishes she could say that she thinks it through, but she doesn't.  It's just the two of them, with their stuff spread out all around her living room, and she's freaking out about her upcoming anatomy final, because there's just  _so much content._  But freaking out about her anatomy final quickly becomes freaking out about her pregnancy, because stress is _bad for the baby._  And it spirals, of course, because stressing about being stressed makes you more stressed, and it's honestly -- it's just such a mess.

So when Wells catches her blinking back tears and comes to sit beside her, asking what's wrong in that voice of his, soft and familiar and comforting, the words just burst right out of her.

"I'm pregnant," she tells him softly, trying not to add guilt for not telling him sooner to her emotional state. There's enough on her plate right now.

"What?"

"I'm  _pregnant,_ " Clarke repeats, blinking up to look at Wells. He's watching her carefully, concerned and surprised, not that she can blame him. "It's -- remember Bellamy?"

"He was only here two months ago," Wells points out mildly, making Clarke huff out a laugh. "And I'm pretty sure we teased you about him for like, three weeks after. Does he know?"

"I haven't been able to contact him," Clarke says, and when Wells looks confused, she explains the story all over again.

It's -- different, explaining it to him, but it feels good, too. Raven's heard the story enough that Clarke feels bad talking about it again and again, even though she kind of wants to, but Wells is someone fresh to rant to. It helps, being able to tell another person. When she tells the rest of her friends, she'll probably get through the story without wanting to cry.

But she does cry to Wells, and after catching him up on everything that's happened, voices her newfound anxieties of the stress-cycle she's gotten herself into. He packs away all of her uni stuff, and declares that the rest of the day is a stress-free zone, going so far as to whip up a face mask recipe they find online and giving Clarke a foot massage as they watch a movie.

Raven finds them like that after she gets back from work, simply cocking an eyebrow as she sets her bag down.

"Wells knows?"  
  
"Yeah, Wells knows."

**

Raven wins her bet and writes a long letter to the magazine, spending her $100 on an expensive bottle of booze, because she knows what's up.

**

The rest of her first trimester goes as smoothly as it probably can.

Despite feeling better for telling Wells, she still doesn't tell the rest of her friends.

It's easier than she originally anticipated, honestly. With exams coming up they're not going out on the weekends, so explaining her sudden sobriety isn't an issue, and she doesn't look much different. Nobody asks any questions or acts any differently, and it's all -- normal.

So honestly, not much changes. Clarke continues going to work and uni, getting ready for exams, and a lot of her life is the same as it was before.

There are still some differences, of course. She does feel nauseous sometimes, and has to run to the bathroom quickly before throwing up on a handful of occasions. It's annoying, but after reading some horror stories of morning sickness online, she's counting it as a win.

She feels tired more often, even if she doesn’t do much with her day. Her breasts are getting bigger -- which, admittedly, Harper calls her out on one night at the bar, and she explains by saying she bought a new push up bra -- and they're sore and sensitive too. She needs to pee a lot, which is just -- so inconvenient, and she has a list of things she won't eat, and a list of new cravings that are more than a little ridiculous.

She becomes a victim to mood wings. It's nothing too crazy, but Raven does find her crying in bed on more than one occasion, getting all concerned and sympathetic until Clarke explains that she watched a sad episode of Buffy or reread Sirius' death scene in the Order of the Phoenix. She'll be cackling over Community ten minutes later.

And she finds herself holding her stomach a lot, something of a protective instinct. It surprises her, never having felt like a particularly maternal person, but she smiles every time she notices.

It's those moments that Bellamy's absence is the hardest; the ones she feels like she should be sharing with someone else.

Clarke hasn't suddenly realised she's in love with him, but that heavy feeling in her chest that she  _could've been_ , if they just had more time, still weighs on her. It's hard not having him here, hard not knowing where he is or what he's doing. Whether her child will ever meet him.

Raven and Wells and Abby are beyond amazing, and Clarke's so incredibly grateful for their support. But it's not the same. It's not what she wants, when she lets herself think about that. Because what she wants is Bellamy with her at doctor's appointments, and calming her down after she reads something ridiculous online. She wants him to debate with her about finding out the sex, and laugh when she says she can't eat grapes, because that's the size of the baby that week.

She knew him for less than two weeks and yet she  _wants._ Wants  _him,_ despite knowing that even if he was here, he might not want her. Not like that.

But it doesn't matter either way, because he isn't here, and he won't be. 

She just needs to accept it.

**

She has another check up at eleven weeks, with Raven and Abby tagging along. They get to hear the heartbeat, and it's  _fast._ Her mum told her it would be, but it's still incredible to listen to.

There are more tests done, and Clarke becomes familiar with the phrase "sit tight", which is both frustrating because she's incredibly impatient, and scary because she doesn't have any knowledge of Bellamy's medical history. It's hard not to worry that something's going to be wrong, but thankfully it's a few days later that she finds out all common abnormalities have come back clear. She'll have to wait a few weeks to get more comprehensive results, but the news still sets most of her nerves at ease.

**

Before she knows it, exams are upon her. She only has two, on Monday and Tuesday, and she finishes before the rest of her friends.

They go well, as far as she can tell. For someone who found out they were pregnant during the last term of their degree, she's pretty proud of how she's handled it all.

Raven picks her up after the Tuesday anatomy exam, a bottle of something in hand. She whoops when she sees Clarke, loud enough to turn a few heads, and Clarke's glare only gets answered by cackling laughter. 

"Congrats, babe!" Raven sing songs, wrapping Clarke into a big hug before wiggling the bottle she's got in her face. "I got you something."

"Alcohol I can't drink for six months!" Clarke exclaims with false excitement. "My favourite."

"It's non-alcoholic champagne, I'll have you know. I know how to cater for my pregnant friends."

"Very kind of you," Clarke snorts, but she can't help but pull Raven in for another hug. "Thanks, Rave."

"Anytime."

They begin their walk back to her car, Raven explaining how she managed to convince Sinclair to give her the afternoon off, and it's only once they're actually off campus that it hits Clarke.

"God, four years of my life," she sighs, glancing over her shoulder to look back at the familiar buildings. "I can't believe it's over."

"It's a good thing, though, yeah?"

"It is. It's amazing, really. It's just -- it feels surreal, like -- I'm actually  _done,_ Raven. Done with my degree. Done with uni. For now, at least; maybe forever." She sighs again, scrubs her face with a hand. "I don't know. I guess I'm feeling weirdly sentimental about it all."

"Only five minutes after your last exam? That's sad, babe."

"Shut up," Clarke laughs, bumping her shoulder against Raven's.

"You know you can go back to uni, though, right?" Raven asks. "Probably not next semester, but next year. Or the year after. Or the year after that." She takes Clarke's hand and squeezes it, sends her a comforting smile. "You'll be fine, babe, I promise. You're too smart not to work this out, and do everything you want to do."

"Yeah," Clarke sighs. "Thanks, Rave. For everything. I couldn't have gotten through this month without you."

Raven grins, loops an arm through Clarke’s. "I’m great, I know."

Clarke laughs, but can't find herself disagreeing.

They drive back home, and instead of ending the academic year with a rager like they normally do, they spend it binging Netflix shows, eating Thai takeout and drinking that godawful non-alcoholic champagne. It's still a pretty great way to end her college years.

Still, she can't actually hold out on her friends for much longer, though.

By Friday, everyone's done with exams and looking to party, which puts all her closest friends in her and Raven's apartment for pre-drinks.

It's not a situation Clarke's really sure how to navigate, and it gets all the more difficult when Jasper finds her as she's grabbing some water in the kitchen and rounds an arm around her shoulders.

"You're awfully sober," he accuses with a slight slur. It's only just past eight, but apparently Jasper and Monty pre-drank for the pre-drinks, because both are without a doubt tipsy. "Why are you so sober?"

"Maybe I just hold my liquor better than you," Clarke says mildly, leading him back to the lounge room, where a game of kings looks like it's starting.

"Nu-uh," Jasper says, flopping down besides her when she finds a spot next to Raven on the couch. "You haven't had anything all night. I don't get it. You love drinking." He looks at her, eyebrows crinkling in confusion. "We finished our degrees, Clarke. Our degrees. Why aren't you celebrating?"

"Just don't feel like drinking tonight, Jas."

“What, you pregnant or something?” He jokes with a laugh, and really, it'd be so easy to go along with. She's roll her eyes and shove him in the arm and he'd forget all about it.

But she's almost thirteen weeks along now, so it's as safe as it can really get to tell people. Plus, she'll be showing soon. She already has the tiniest of bumps; nothing anybody but her could notice, but the promise of something larger soon.

So instead of denying it, Clarke glances to Raven, and then Wells, both of whom have caught onto the conversation, before turning back to Jasper. And, "Yeah, actually, I am."

He gapes for all of five seconds before screaming, wrapping Clarke up in a hug, and the next minute is a blur of noise and hugs, Clarke announcing her news to the group and receiving an incredibly enthusiastic response in return. 

The air buzzes with a new kind of energy. Thankfully, her friends catch onto Clarke’s excitement, and don’t get awkward about everything like she half expected them to.

Still, when the questions start, she knows things will get — not _uncomfortable._ But her friends are a worrisome bunch, fiercely protective and with a lot of opinions they like to share. Convincing them that she’s okay might take a bit of effort.

Thankfully it starts off easy, with Monty’s “How far along are you?”

“Almost thirteen weeks,” Clarke tells them with a smile, hand absently moving down to feel the small bump of her stomach.

“Have you had much morning sickness?” Harper asks, and it goes from there.

She tells them how the past month of so has been, shows them the ultrasound pictures she’s been given, and talks a bit about what she’s expecting in the coming weeks.

She can see the question in each of their eyes, though, and — it’s so obvious what they want to know. Clarke feels kind of bad for not saying it outright, and she’s honestly a little impressed they wait a whole ten minutes before Jasper speaks up.

“It’s Bellamy’s, yeah?” He asks, tentative.

“Yeah,” Clarke sighs, closing her eyes briefly and taking a deep breath to gather some strength.

Her previous thoughts were apparently correct, because recounting the story this time doesn’t tug at Clarke’s chest as harshly. It still aches, but she doesn’t get teary and her voice doesn’t waver.

When she finishes, she’s met with unsurprising sympathetic looks.

“Guys, I’m fine,” Clarke tells them with a breathy laugh. “I’ve had a month to get used to it, and — I’m still calling once a day, just because I feel like I should, but — I don’t have much hope. It’ll be tough, but I know I can do this.”

“Plus, she’s got us,” Raven adds, giving everyone pointed looks.

It’s enough that they stop looking at Clarke like they were, so she’s grateful.

“Of course you have us, Clarke,” Wells says, sending her a smile. Warm and a little proud.

They decide to stay in to celebrate, instead of the bar hopping that was originally planned. It’s a lot of fun, everyone getting more excited and sappy with each drink, and while Clarke can’t join in in that respect, she feels the most incredible surge of fondness for her friends, all accepting her news easily and enthusiastically, turning a graduation party into a celebration for her as well.

Unsurprisingly, there are fights over titles of god parents and bets placed on the sex, which Clarke tells them she’s not finding out and Wells reminds them not to get attached to, and by the end of the night Clarke’s heard every single one of her friends’ names as a possibility for the baby.

“Jasper’s a great name, Clarke,” Jasper slurs, well past midnight, a goofy grin spread across his face. “Strong, reliable, sexy. And if it’s a girl, Jaspina.”

Clarke cracks up, throwing her head back with a full belly laugh.

She falls asleep a few hours later with a smile on her face and her hand pressed securely over her stomach.

**

It’s different after that; better. Having all her favourite people know and supporting her, it feels a little less like she’s going through everything alone.

With the end of uni, Clarke starts picking up more shifts at both the art shop and the bar. She’ll need to find a time to sit down and work out her finances soon, and seriously make some sort of a plan for the coming months, if not years.

It’s stressful to think about, but she knows how lucky she is. She’s leaving college without any student debt, still has a solid amount of inheritance money from her father, and knows that her mum will be willing to help out in any way she can. An unplanned pregnancy at twenty two is something she’ll be able to afford, and it’s screwed up that she gets when so many others don’t.

She tells both Callie and Anya a few weeks later, knowing they’ll have to make alternative arrangements in her absence. Callie reassures Clarke she’ll have a job to return to when she wants it, and they agree that she can continue working up until December, while Anya just gives her a flat, partly unimpressed look.

“You’re pregnant?” She asks, when Clarke tells her at the beginning of a Thursday shift.

“Apparently.”

“Well, you can keep your job, of course, but I’m not sure how long you’ll want to. I can try rostering you onto afternoon shifts over night ones, but even so — I’m not sure how good you’ll be on your feet in a few months.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clarke says with a nod. “I’ll keep you updated. Thanks, Anya.”

Anya nods, before offering the barest of smiles. It’s still a lot, coming from her. “Congratulations, Clarke. You’ll be a great mother.”

Clarke blames it on hormones that it takes an extra few minutes to get herself together for the shift.

** 

By eighteen weeks, she has a definite baby bump.

It’s small, and she can conceal it with the right top, but it’s definitely there. Her _baby_.

It’s an incredible feeling, but the flip side is that her clothes begin to stop fitting as well, bottoms no longer buttoning up and tops pressing against her chest uncomfortably. Maternity clothes shopping is a necessary evil, and she makes sure to buy things that will be able to stretch throughout the rest of her pregnancy, because it’s something she only wants to do once.

She’s working with Murphy a few days later, in a new dress that fits snug against the curve of her stomach. It’s a quiet afternoon shift, just the two of them serving the occasional customer but mostly doing stock take. They’re mostly friends now, Clarke thinks; he’s rude and sarcastic and an asshole, but the kind of asshole she likes. He hasn’t said a word about her belly, for one, and that definitely puts him in her good books.

It’s with an hour left in her shift, that she feels it. It’s weird, and at first Clarke doesn’t think anything of it, but then it happens again a few minutes later. A sort of fluttery feeling in her stomach.

“Holy shit,” Clarke breathes out, when she realises what it is, one hand going to her mouth and the other to her belly.

That’s how Murphy finds her a moment later, and she catches his expression of concern as he walks out of the storeroom.

“Fuck, Clarke. Are you okay?” He asks, coming up beside her and placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

She brings her hand away from her mouth and nods. “Yeah, sorry. I um —I actually just felt it move,” she explains, unable to stop the smile from growing on her face.

Murphy laughs, the sound coming out sharp and surprised. “That’s pretty cool, Griffin.”

Clarke shakes her head, feels a laugh bubble up from her chest as well. “Yeah, I guess it is,” she agrees, reining in her exciting because she doesn’t _guess_ it’s pretty cool; she knows it is. This is her baby fucking moving. Her _baby._ Clarke’s not sure Murphy’s one for sentimentality, though, so she decides to wait until she gets home to share her excitement with Raven. 

Murphy clears his throat, gaining Clarke’s attention once more. “So, uh, how far along are you?” He asks, unstacking the dishwasher so they can put glasses away.

“Almost nineteen weeks.”

“And I’m guessing I would’ve heard if you were seeing anyone.”

“Subtle,” Clarke snorts, sending him a pointed look which he returns with a lazy shrug. “I’m not seeing anyone. It’s — you remember Bellamy? It’s him.”

Clarke’s adjusted to the situation in the past few months, but she knows that it’s not exactly what other people are expecting to hear. But Murphy’s reaction still comes as a bit of a shock, the way he stops cleaning his glass and levels Clarke with something close to a glare.

“Does he know?” He asks, flat.

“What?

“I mean, I haven’t exactly seen him around recently, so have you told him?”

“No,” Clarke says quietly, taken aback by Murphy’s anger.

“He’s a good person,” he says, turning back to the storeroom. “You should tell him.”

It takes her a moment, still a little shocked, but Clarke spins around on her feet, catching Murphy’s arm before he can leave. “What the fuck?” She asks, brows crinkling in confusion. “Why are you being so weird? And what do you mean ‘he’s a good person’?”

Murphy sighs, scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus,” he mutters, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. “Look, Clarke, I’m from New York. I knew Bellamy a few years back. But I was in with a bad group and when I moved west, I cut all ties. I hadn’t heard from him in years until I saw him here with you.”

“You know Bellamy,” Clarke repeats slowly, not sure how to process the information. 

“Yes,” Murphy responds, gruff. “And he’s a good guy. He deserves to know.”

“I couldn’t contact him,” she says quietly, shaking her head. “I called him months ago and — and his number wasn’t connected. I’ve tried every day since. I’ve tried looking for him online, or even his sister, but I can’t find anything. I don’t — I don’t know what else to do.”

“Shit,” Murphy curses, his jaw working for a long moment before his eyes snap up to Clarke, realisation settling in his expression. “I still know where he lives,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Or at least, where he lived when I was there.”

Clarke watches in shock as Murphy searches for an address before navigating it to a nearby place. He apparently finds what he’s looking for, because soon enough Clarke feels her phone vibrate, an address sent in an incoming text.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out, finally catching up with the situation as she stares down at the address. The address she can find a working number to. “Do you mind if I go?”

“Nah, go ahead. I’ll cover you.”

“Fuck, okay. Thank you.”

She grabs her stuff and is running out of the bar less than a minute later, feeling a thrumming of hope in her chest, beneath her skin, with each step she takes.

Like things might finally start working out. 

**

They don’t.

A gruff sounding man who answers as the building’s landlord tells Clarke that Bellamy Blake moved out a few months ago, and didn’t leave a forwarding address.

“Sorry,” he says, before hanging up.

Clarke lays in bed by herself for two hours before Raven comes home, eyes closed and mind screaming, wondering how it feels so much worse this time round.

**

It takes a few weeks for her to shake off the awful feeling that came with the phone call, and even then it lingers; shifting from a sharp pain to an underlying ache as she goes about her day-to-day life.

It’s her friends and family that help her through it.

Although Clarke only tells Raven what she found out, she knows the others can tell something’s happened, and they seem to bump up their levels of comfort and support to accomodate her mood.

They check in more often, just simple texts that let her know she’s in their thoughts, or something funny to make her laugh. Maya bakes her a batch of brownies, which are to die for, while Wells opts for taking her out of the city on a sunny afternoon, driving up the coast to have a picnic.

She’s pulled into debates over god parents — everyone apparently already agreeing to be honorary uncles and aunts, but needing something more — and names, and starts a list of things she won’t have to buy for the baby in the coming months because her friends have already taken care of it.

And they still try to catch up at least once a fortnight for a movie night. It’s been a loose tradition since their early college years, whoever’s free and wants to spend a lazy night in, but everyone seems to be doubling down on their efforts to come now. Clarke would feel guilty, but — they’re all so _happy,_ despite her own slightly forlorn mood. They’re happy to have finished their undergrads and excited about the baby and just want to spend time together. She’s not self-absorbed enough to think that _everything’s_ about her.

And of course, the baby makes her feel a lot better.

She’s almost 24 weeks along by the end of August, and her belly is big enough that it’s pretty clear she’s pregnant. She’s officially finished working at Grounders, after the late night shifts became too tiring and the drunk frat boys became more of a nuisance than they were worth.

She picks up some extra hours at the art store and spends the rest of her free time reading up on pregnancy and babies, and organising different parts of her life. Abby’s offered for Clarke to move in before the baby comes, and while Raven hasn’t said anything about wanting her to move out, Clarke’s pretty sure she’ll take her mum up on it. A baby is something her mum and Marcus will be much more equiped to deal with than Raven, and Clarke doesn’t want to disrupt her life in a way a newborn definitely will. Even though it’ll be sad moving out of her place, it’s the smart thing to do. 

On top of that, she starts learning how to cook. Well, more than her specialties of ramen and pizza. She’s not _awful_ at it, or anything, but it’s not something that’s ever particularly excited her or that she’s ever been naturally good at. But it’s important to learn for the baby, so Clarke finds a good website that teaches different culinary skills, and sets aside a few nights a week to put together some meals that are a good deal more nutritious than her previous go-tos.

It’s actually fun, once she’s got the basics down, and rewarding too. It’s the same feeling she gets when she organises a new budget or researches the merits of different car seats. Like she’s actively doing something that will help her baby when it gets here.

The doctor’s appointments continue, and it’s a huge relief each time someone confirms that everything is looking good and her baby is healthy. She almost falters with the decision not to find out about the sex, especially when Raven is with her and badgering her to ask, but ultimately decides against it. She wants it to be a surprise.

The fridge has a growing collection of sonogram pictures, and it’s often the first place any of her friends look when they come over after she’s had an appointment.

It’s on one of those evenings, everyone over for Lord of the Rings marathon a few days after her six month check up in September, that she feels it. She’s gotten used to the quickening in the weeks since it first happened, but this is without a doubt different. A jab to her midsection; a kick.

“Holy shit,” Clarke laughs, moving her hand to where the baby kicked, waiting a moment until she feels it again from the outside. It’s small but strong, and so fucking incredible.

Her excitement is enough to gain the attention of her friends, and soon the movie’s forgotten, each of them having a turn with their hands on her belly, trying to talk to baby into kicking for them.

It does for Harper and Wells, who are very smug about it, as well as Miller, a new addition that Monty introduced to them a few weeks back. 

“Traitor,” Monty says as he narrows his eyes at Clarke’s belly, but all seems forgiven with a quick kiss on the lips from Miller.

It isn’t until later that night that Clarke realises Bellamy’s absence didn’t hurt as much as it did a few weeks ago.

**

By the end of the following week, every has felt it, including her mum and Marcus.

She’s out with the pair looking for baby furniture when the now familiar jabs start up again, but a little different this time. 

“The baby’s probably hiccuping, darling,” Abby tells her when Clarke explains the sensation, and Clarke finds herself gaping, because _hiccuping?_ Her baby can _hiccup._

She smiles, resting a hand back on her belly as she follows her mum to look at some cribs.

**

The end of September notes the beginning of her third trimester.

She told Raven she’d be moving in with her mum a few weeks earlier, and they’d spend the evening on the couch, binging movies and reminiscing on their years of living together. It’ll be sad leaving, but it’s the right decision.

Conveniently, Monty’s been looking for a place to live, having been crashing at his parent’s place since the end of his undergrad upstate. So they pick a weekend to move him in and move her out, and bribe their friends to help out with the promise of booze and pizza.

Clarke can’t do any heavy lifting herself, so she’s left to pack her stuff up into boxes and direct everyone else. It doesn’t take very long; since she’s moving into an already furnished home, it’s more convenient to leave the bulk of her furniture. It’s not like she doesn’t know where it’ll be if she needs it. What she does need to move, they take downstairs to stack into the van Marcus hires.

Altogether it takes a few hours, and by the time they’re done Clarke’s a lot more tired than she really ought to be. It’s one of the things that she’s still getting used to, very grudgingly; pregnancy makes you tired a lot more quickly.

“You look ready to pass out,” Raven comments, when Clarke flops down next to her on the couch.

“I am,” she responds with a large sigh, rolling her head lazily to smile at her friend. “Marcus is downstairs getting the last things packed in.”

“Time to go?” Raven asks, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Yeah, I think so.” Raven nods, finding Clarke’s hand and giving it a squeeze. She feels herself tear up. “I’m still going to see you like, three times a week.”

Raven laughs, wrapping Clarke up in a hug. “Of course you will, babe. As if you could spend all your time with just your mother.”

Clarke huffs out a laugh of her own. “I’m still gonna miss living with you, though.”

“Yeah, me too. You’re not a half bad roommate, you know?”

“Probably the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.

“Probably,” Raven agrees, pulling back to smile at Clarke. “Now come on, Marcus is probably waiting.”

Clarke nods, taking a deep breath before standing up. The goodbyes to her friends are the same as they always are, but she pulls Raven in for one final long hug at the door, before saying goodbye to the apartment she’s called home for the last two years.

It’s a relatively short trip to her mum and Marcus’ place, and it passes easily, Clarke updating Marcus on all the baby news she’s got.

“They’re moving around every day now,” she’s explaining as they head upstairs. “And they pack quite a punch when they want to.”

Marcus laughs, sending Clarke a warm smile. “Maybe a sign you’ll be a soccer mum. I can imagine you yelling at the umpire in an under 10s game.”

“Would not,” Clarke grumbles, although she can kind of imagine it as well.

“Mm, whatever you say,” Marcus chuckles, before coming to a stop in the upstairs landing. “So, we’ve changed some things around in the house.”

Clarke frowns, confused. “What do you mean?”

Marcus grins, gestures over to his and Abby’s room. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

When he opens the door Clarke feels her jaw drop, taking in the room: cleared out of all its usual stuff, with the guest furniture set up instead. She turns to Marcus with wide eyes and a question on the tip of her tongue, but before she can ask, he pushes on her shoulders to guide her to the adjoining study.

It’s empty, save for a few tins of paint.

“Oh my god,” she breathes out, realisation dawning on her as her eyes roam around the small space. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Marcus says easily, sending her a bright grin. “But I mentioned to your mum that you’d probably want the baby close for a while, and she agreed. We cleared it out after you told us you were moving in.”

Clarke shakes her head, a smile growing on her face despite the disbelief. She reaches up and hugs Marcus, feels tears gather at her eyes when hugs her back. It’s not the same as having her dad here, but it’s still pretty incredible.

“You’re going to be a great grandpa,” she tells him after pulling back.

He bites back a grin, eyes sparking with excitement. “You’ll let me be the baby’s grandpa?”

Clarke shrugs, rests a hand where she feels some movement in her belly. “Yeah,” she says, with a slightly shy smile. “It’s not like I won’t tell the baby about Dad, but — this is what he’d want. And it’s what I want, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. Plus,” she adds, looking down at the bump, “this baby needs all the family it can get.”

Marcus’ smile softens, and he puts an arm around her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kiddo.”

She spends the rest of the evening unpacking her things from the boxes Marcus brings up, setting up the room that’ll be hers for at least a few more years. What will be the nursery gets filled with the random bits and pieces she’s already got for the baby, but without any furniture, it doesn’t look like much. Still, Clarke can’t help the way her heart swells as she looks around the room, picturing where the crib will go, and what little pieces of artwork she’ll hang on the walls.

It’s the kind of moment she once again wishes she could share with someone, and it’s unsurprising that Clarke’s mind once again drifts off to Bellamy. She wonders what his opinions would be on these trivial but fun things, the colour of the room or the theme of the mobile; whether he’d be buying the baby books already, or indulging in small but probably expensive clothes.

It still hurts to think about, but in a familiar and more bearable way now.

And despite wishing he was here with her right now, Clarke still falls to sleep with a smile on her face.

**

With her third trimester comes more regular doctor’s appointments. Abby joins her for most of them now that they’re living together, and Clarke only has to remind her twice that she’s there as a _mother,_ and not a doctor, like she sometimes acts.

But they’re all going well, so she can’t really complain. Not until Nyko asks her to start thinking about a birthing plan, that is. It’s just -- not something Clarke really wants to think about. Pregnancy books calling it the miracle of life can suck it.

“I want to be in hospital, pumped full of drugs,” she tells him, seriously, and is only mildly offended when he laughs.

Her belly seems to balloon out over the span of two weeks, until it’s big enough that people start offering to carry her bags to her car at the supermarket, or use it as a talking point when she’s at work.

She talks to it a lot more now too, ever since she noticed how the baby responds to her voice, shifting its head or wriggling around in her belly. They play games together, Clarke nudging at the baby gently and feeling kicks in return. The others love those games too, and whenever the baby’s feeling active they tend to gravitate towards Clarke, ready to poke the little elbows or feet that jab out from the large bump. Raven likes to call it a little alien baby, a name that catches on quickly when everyone grows accustomed to the weird shapes Clarke’s belly can become when the baby starts moving around, and Clarke can’t bring herself to care enough to tell them to stop.

It does look a little like that, if she’s being honest.

It’s mid October that she comes home from having breakfast with her mum before a hospital shift, and is greeted by a very loud “Surprise!”

Clarke yelps, looking up from her phone to find her friends waiting for her in the living room.

“What the fuck,” she breathes out, a hand pressed on her now racing heart. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Baby shower!” Monty announces excitedly, coming up to Clarke to pull her into a hug and pat her belly hello. 

“A baby shower?”

“Abby said you weren’t doing one, so we thought we’d surprise you,” Wells explains with a grin.

“And you thought screaming at a very pregnant person was a good idea?”

“You’re fine,” Raven hushes, coming up to Clarke and pulling her back out of the living room. Clarke looks over her shoulder, alarmed, to find the rest following.

“Okay, so where are we going?”

“Just _wait,_ ” Raven huffs, walking them to Clarke’s room.

The packs of furniture that were previously stored in the garage are stacked against the wall, as are a variety of shopping bags and tins of paint.

“We’re setting up the nursery for you,” Harper supplies as Clarke looks everything over. “And eating pizza and drinking. Well, you’re not going to drink, but we are.”

“I’m not going to drink?” Clarke responds, mild, before turning around to look at her friends. She feels herself tearing up, which is just so _annoying._ She can’t handle anything anymore, honestly. “You guys didn’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, but we wanted to,” Monty says, sending Clarke a smile. “You know how invasive we like to be.”

“Okay, true,” she laughs. “Thanks, guys.”

The room’s already been painted, Marcus having finished it a few weeks earlier when Clarke was at work, careful to time it so she wouldn’t be near any paint fumes. Which leaves setting up furniture, sorting through all the baby stuff she’s got, and decorating. And because Clarke’s deemed not safe to be helping with the furniture, she’s left to the much more enjoyable parts.

“I don’t think you guys thought this through,” she comments as Raven curses rather imaginatively while she reads the manual for a chest of drawers.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, throwing Clarke a dirty look when she simply laughs. Meanwhile, she’s sorting through adorable babies clothes with Maya, which is infinitely more fun. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, yeah,” Clarke recalls. “Put me in for a girl, and… 18th of December.”

“Got that, Monty?”

“Yep,” Monty replies, tapping away at his phone. It’s ridiculous that he’s got a google doc of all their current bets, but — they make a lot of dumb bets that they need to keep track of. “It’s ten for the date and five for the sex. Split with whoever’s sharing, but nobody else has the 18th.”

“Sounds good. Anyone got the 14th?”

“Yeah, Jas. Why?”

“That’s Bellamy’s birthday,” she says, ducking her head when the expected beat of silence follows. They never really know how to respond when she talks about Bellamy casually. Like they’re expecting her to break down. Which, to be fair, she has a few times, but never in this type of situation.

“My bad,” Jasper says a moment later, breaking the room of any awkwardness, and Clarke laughs, shooting him a fond smile.

They break for pizza and drinks after a few hours, once the drawers and crib and changing table have been constructed, and Clarke shows everyone her trick of balancing a can of coke on her belly. They all _ooh_ appreciatively, and Raven snaps a photo for Clarke to upload on Instagram.

By the time Marcus and her mum return home, all the furniture is set up (which Marcus double checks upon Clarke’s discrete request) and they’re hanging out, decorating the room and filling it up with clothes and toys and books and random knick knacks.

“Looks good, yeah?” Clarke asks her mum as her eyes roam the room.

The walls are are a pale blue and the trimming an off-white, and while the room isn’t particularly big, the light streaming in from the window makes it feel larger. They’ve secured some framed pictures on the wall and set up a mobile of planets above the crib, and with the toys and the blankets and cushions and the rocking chair sitting in the corner, it feels homey; real.

This is the place her baby will sleep.

“Yeah,” Abby agrees, giving Clarke a warm squeeze. “It looks great.”

**

As always, Grounders is hosting a Halloween-themed night the final Saturday of October, and Raven insists on going.

“It’s tradition, Clarke,” she says, outraged, when Clarke mentions she’ll probably give it a miss this year.

“I’m seven months pregnant, Rave. I doubt I’ll be much fun.”

Raven scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Bullshit; you still know how to have fun. Plus, who knows when you’ll be able to come next. Next year you’ll be dressing your kid up in tiny outfits and giving out candy.”

It’s a crazy enough realisation that Clarke doesn’t respond straight away, and Raven apparently takes that as consideration.

“I’ll make your costume,” she offers in an enticing voice, waggling her eyebrows at Clarke.

She simply sighs, accepting that the only thing she has control over is how long this conversation will go on. Raven will convince her, ultimately; better to say yes now.

“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes when Raven whoops. “But nothing sexy; it feels weird to do that pregnant.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”

**

The costume is, admittedly, pretty fucking cool. In theme with the nickname _little alien baby,_ Raven makes Clarke a top with half an alien toy sewn onto the stomach region, with a lot of fake blood, and even lets her wear leggings with it to remain extra comfy.

They’re able to snag their usual booth despite the crowd already gathering at Grounders, and Clarke heads over to the bar to greet her old workmates and start up a tab for the group.

“Oh, very nice,” Anya remarks, when she sees Clarke’s outfit, lips quirking up in a sly smile. “I’ll put you in the running for best costume.”

“Appreciated,” Clarke says, grinning brightly when she returns to her friends with the first round of drinks.

There are a lot of hoots and hollers, and a long round of taking photo. Her friends tend to take dressing up seriously, so it’s completely unexpected that they’re all decked out in wigs and makeup and glitter and in Maya’s case, even coloured contacts. She’s got a lot of competition, when it comes to best costume, and she probably wouldn’t put money on herself.

And Clarke’s glad Raven made her come, because it’s really a fun night. So much of her life right now feels like it’s revolved around preparing for the baby, and while she’s excited and enjoys it all immensely, it’s a nice break being able to hang out her friends like this; just shit talking and dancing and getting into ridiculous debates and singing their hearts out.

She’s conked by the time midnight hits and Anya announces Maya’s very creepy and realistic (well, for something fictional) depiction of a vampire as the winner, and she bids her friends goodbye before driving back to her house. She’s still getting used to it, living with her mum and Marcus, but with her stuff all moved in and the baby’s room all but finished, it’s starting to feel more like home.

By the time she arrives though, taking a long shower and washing all the fake blood off of her skin, she feels a renewed surge of energy. So after changing into her pyjamas, she decides to pull out her sketch book while playing Community softly in the background. The happiness from her night flows out easily onto her page, and she finds herself sketching her friends and her family, watching as her father’s smile comes to life before her.

He’s missing so much, right now, and — it’s a bittersweet feeling, thinking about him. The ache of not having her dad in her life is bearable now, and with the years that have passed, she’s able to focus on the time they had together rather than what she isn’t getting. But there are days when it’s particularly hard, and being pregnant right now brings up a whirl of emotions she had yet to think about. These ideas she had as a kid, that one day, if she ever got married or had a baby, her dad would be there to walk her down the aisle, or give suggestions for baby names. It wasn’t ever really a conscious decision, that that’s where she wanted her life to go, but instead just an expectation. She’d get a boyfriend, fall in love with him, decide to marry him, eventually start up a family, and her dad would be there for all of it.

Of course, those ten year old expectations were before she realised she was bi, or that having kids and getting married weren’t mandatory. And, before her dad died.

So it’s been hard, realising that he’s never going to meet her kid, or that her kid’s never going to meet its granddad. Other than Marcus, of course.

But her kid’s also never going to meet Bellamy, so. It’s something Clarke will have to get used to.

And she is, honestly, it’s just — hard. A lot of the time.

She’s interrupted from her thoughts with a soft knock on the door, looks up to find Abby peering into the room.

“Baby, what’re you doing up?” She asks, a furrow to her brow. “It’s almost two in the morning.”

Clarke shrugs, looks back at her sketchpad to her new depiction of Bellamy; this time grinning, eyes bright and happy, like he’s laughing.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Thinking about Dad. Thinking about Bellamy.”

Abby offers her a soft, slightly sad smile, before walking into the room and taking the sketchpad off of her. Clarke all at once realises she’s exhausted again, which isn’t surprising given it’s past midnight and she’s seven months pregnant. 

“Come on, sweetie,” Abby says, pulling back the covers and prompting Clarke to settle into bed. She’s surprised when her mum joins her a moment later, flicking off the lamp before wrapping a comforting arm around her. “Get some rest.”

**

November passes quickly, with everything Clarke’s doing.

Her belly continues to get bigger, if that’s even possible, and she continues getting check ups, shifting from once a fortnight to once a week. Each time Nyko tells her everything looks good, it’s a relief, and Clarke tries not to feel too ridiculous about all her questions on how often she should feel movement as each week passes.

Work is much of the same, and thankfully Clarke is able to sit down a lot, as being on her feet constantly gets tiring. She starts training a new person for when she’s on maternity leave, and after talking to Callie, arranges to stop working at the beginning of December.

She still makes it to the fortnightly movie nights, each time getting something new to take home for the baby, because her friends are ridiculous and have zero self control. Not that she _minds._ And even out of movie nights, she tends to go to Raven’s (and now Monty’s) place when she’s free, because Abby and Marcus often work on the weekends, and they’ll either stay in and watch TV or go out for a walk because “exercise is important when you’re pregnant, Clarke!”.

It’s on one of those days, when Clarke’s thirty four weeks (and her baby’s the size of a cantaloupe, which means no melon for her), that they bump into Finn while shopping for some baby clothes. 

He’s a blabbering idiot for about half a minute before he finally gets out, “I didn’t know you were seeing someone”, which is so typical Finn it’s almost funny.

Clarke levels him with an unimpressed glare. “I’m not,” she says, and walks past him with Raven and Monty in tow, Raven cackling loudly as they go.

**

It’s the beginning of December when Clarke goes in for a check up and tells Nyko the baby has dropped. It feels different than it previously had, easier to breathe but with a new pressure at her pelvis. Plus, she can see it when she looks in the mirror, and the frequency she needs to pee definitely goes up.

It’s all normal, Clarke knows, but it’s still a shock when Nyko just nods, and tells her that with just over two weeks until her due date, she can expect the baby to come from now on. She knew that, but it still has her reeling, unable to stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

She’s helping decorate Raven and Monty’s apartment with Christmas decor later that day when she voices her, admittedly ridiculous, thought. 

“It’s just, it’s really happening, you know?” She says, untangling fairy lights from her position on the couch, because she’s not actually allowed to _help._ “I’m really having a baby. Soon.Like, any day now.”

Raven snorts, sending her amused look. “Yeah, that generally happens when you’re pregnant.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raven replies with a grin. “I can’t wait to meet that little sucker. I’m gonna be the best god mother ever.” 

Clarke rolls her eyes at the comment. Unsurprisingly, each of her friends drop in their own ones at any available time they can. They’ve got a bet going, because of course they do.

“Yeah, and I’m going to be the best god father ever,” Monty adds.

“I’m not even religious,” Clarke sighs. “I never said anything about god parents, you guys did.”

“You’re not religious but you’re celebrating Christmas,” Monty points out.

“Only because I’m materialistic and want all the presents ever,” she responds, prim. “Besides, if anyone’s going to be the god father, it’s Wells.”

“What!?” Monty says, at the same time Raven cackles a, “Told you so!”

“I’ve known him my whole life,” Clarke reminds him, sending her best puppy dog eyes Monty’s way. “You can’t be mad at a pregnant lady, can you?”

Monty sighs, dropping down next to her to give her a hug. “Stop using your baby against me.”

Clarke grins, shaking her head. “It’s my right as a mother, Monty.”

**

Despite Nyko’s words coming as a bit of a shock to Clarke, she’s thankfully able to continue her life normally in the following days. Obviously she _knew_ she was eventually going to actually _have_ the baby. They’ve got a hospital bag packed and a birthing plan prepared and Clarke knows both Abby and Marcus have organised being able to take work off at the drop of a hat; she’s as prepared as she can be, really. It was just weird to realise that all those preparations were actually coming to use soon.

Still, once she accepts it, it’s fine, and she adjusts to the reality that her contractions could start up any day.

She’s just really not expecting it to be when she’s out Christmas shopping with Raven and Harper. Or, when she’s been productively shopping for two hours and is now trying on hilarious holiday-themed knit jumpers. It’s ridiculous, because it’s not like the _baby_ cares what Clarke’s doing.

So Harper is snapping photos of Clarke and Raven posing like an old suburban couple sending out holiday cards? Doesn’t matter. Her baby wants to be born.

It happens as they’re all peering at Harper’s phone, stifling fits of giggles because they all look _so ridiculous,_ Clarke with her big belly covered by Rudolf and his red nose, and Raven wearing a jumper with a sexy Santa printed on it, and Harper sporting the most colourful thing Clarke’s ever seen, somehow depicting a Christmas tree with lights and presents. She feels a cramp in her stomach, her muscles spasming mildly in a familiar way for a lingering moment.

She sucks in a breath, not so much because it’s painful as it is unexpected, her hand moving to press at the point. When she looks up, it’s to find Raven and Harper watching her with questioning expressions.

“Sorry, I just had a cramp,” she explains, straightening when she processes what she’s said. “Oh. Okay. Um, that was probably a contraction?”

“Holy shit,” Raven says, eyebrows shooting up.

“Are you alright?” Harper asks.

“Yeah,” Clarke nods, sending her a reassuring smile. “It was kind of like a mild period cramp? Not painful, just a bit of a shock.”

“Okay, but we should get you home, anyway,” Raven says. “Abby’s not working today, is she?”

“No, she finished a shift early this morning.”

“Good. Are you okay to walk?”

Clarke bites back a smile at Raven’s concern. “I’m seriously fine, Rave. It won’t be bad for hours, unless things happen really quickly. But, for now, I’m good. Let’s just head back to the car.”

They make it to the carpark soon enough and Raven drops Harper off before driving Clarke home. It’s close to five by the time they arrive, and Clarke’s had another contraction -- well, what she highly suspects is a contraction.

“Mum?” She calls out as they walk through the front door, a hand held firmly on her belly.

“In the kitchen,” Abby calls out, greeting her and Raven with a smile as they come in. “How was shopping?”

“Yeah, good. Um, I think I had a contraction?”

Abby stops stirring whatever she’s got on the stove, looking to Clarke with raised eyebrows. “Oh.”

Clarke huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Oh.”

She ushers her and Raven to the living room, Marcus following as well, and makes Clarke sit down before kneeling in front of her. “Okay, can you describe it for me?”

“It was just a cramp at the base of my stomach,” Clarke explains, gesturing to the position. “It didn’t last long, maybe 20 seconds?”

“Okay, and when was this?” Abby asks, looking down at her watch.

“Around a quarter past four,” Raven answers. “She had another one in the car about ten minutes ago.”

“Alright, darling,” Abby says, taking Clarke’s hand. “It could be Braxton Hicks contractions, or you could be going into labour. We just need to wait for the moment, but if they start coming longer, stronger and closer together, we’ll know it’s time.”

Clarke nods, knowing as much from everything she’s read and asked about. Still, _waiting_ right now feels like it’ll be very difficult. She’s an impatient person, alright? And hours of labour do not at all sound appealing, even if the first few probably won’t be too painful.

Unfortunately, there’s not much Clarke can do, so she settles in with Raven on the couch to watch a movie. Depending on how the night goes, she’ll probably be going for a walk in a few hours or having a long shower, maybe even trying to sleep. But for now, the contractions are bearable, and it’s only early in the evening.

Marcus brings over some stir fry noodles while Abby calls into the hospital, and Raven puts on _10 Things I Hate About You,_ because it’s Clarke’s favourite. They heckle like they always do and Clarke texts the group chat an update of what’s going on and Raven starts promoting her own name as a great contender for the baby, and honestly, it could be like any other night.

Except that, as the hours tick by, her contractions, as promised, start coming quicker, for longer, and become increasingly more painful. She moves around to try to find some relief from the discomfort -- the aching having now spread to her lower back and legs as well as her stomach -- stretching as best as she can and walking up and down the length of the house. It helps a bit, but each contraction still feels like a lot, not the kind of pain Clarke’s used to at all.

She takes a shower close to nine, when her contractions start coming every ten or so minutes, Raven sitting on the closed toilet lid to supervise her because apparently that’s her role as the best friend in this situation.

And while it feels nice on her overall sore body, warm and relaxing as she just lets the water pour over her, it also seems to unravel something in her chest, the anxiety that she’s been pushing down all night bubbling to the surface.

“Raven,” she says over the rush of water, interrupting her friend from her story about a new project Sinclair has her working on. Raven stops, probably hearing the waver of Clarke’s voice just as clearly as she does herself.

“What is it?” Raven asks, standing up.

“I can’t do this,” Clarke says, shaking her head as she feels a few tears slip out. “I can’t have a baby. I’m twenty two; I’m still a baby myself. How am I -- how am I meant to do this? By myself? Without -- without Bellamy?”

There’s a pause, and then Raven’s voice is louder, closer. “Can I come around?” She asks, gentle.

“Yeah,” Clarke sniffles, shutting off the water. Raven holds out a towel for her, uncaring that she’s naked, and Clarke takes it, wrapping herself up. Raven helps her back to her room, sitting next to Clarke on her bed.

“Clarke, babe, you’re ready for this baby,” she says, gentle but still sure. “And if it times you don’t feel ready, you’ll have me to be ready for you. And your mum, and Marcus, and Wells, and everyone else. You’re not going through this alone. I said I’d be with you every step of the way, and I meant it, okay? That means I’ll be with you in the delivery room, and every day after that that you need me. Understand?”

Clarke nods, wiping at her cheeks as she sniffles. “I just -- I wish he was here, you know?” She says, quiet. It feels like something she shouldn’t be admitting, that it somehow makes her weak, but it’s true. She doesn’t need Bellamy to get through this, but she wants him here all the same.

“I know, babe,” Raven sighs, pulling Clarke in for a hug, rubbing her arm soothingly.

“I just keep thinking, if I wasn’t trying so hard to get over him after he left, not messaging him or anything, then maybe I wouldn’t be in this position. Maybe he’d be here with me. Not even as a couple, but just -- here.”

“You can’t blame yourself the situation, Clarke,” Raven says, leaning back to look at her earnestly. “Nobody could’ve known this was going to happen.”

Clarke nods, knowing her friend’s words are true. It’s hard not to feel guilty, feeling like the reason her baby won’t have a dad, but Raven’s right; she couldn’t have known this was going to happen.

Feeling a little better for voicing her anxieties and having them soothed, Clarke begins drying off and changing into some comfortable clothes, thankfully only interrupted once by another contraction. When the painful minute is over, she rolls out her shoulders, tells herself she can do this.

“Hell yeah,” Raven agrees with a wide grin. “You’re Clarke fucking Griffin. You can do anything.”

Clarke snorts a laugh, feeling her smile grow at her friend’s encouragement.

They make their way downstairs by half past nine, Raven helping Clarke with each step, and it’s another hour of contractions until they’re coming every five minutes or so, and another hour again before they’re able to head into the hospital. 

By the time they arrive, Clarke’s experiencing probably the worst pain she ever has in her life, and has an intense desire to punch everyone who isn’t suffering as much as she is right now in the face. She’s able to tamp it down enough to feel relieved when Nyko comes in to give her a check up and confirm everything’s running smoothly, but it comes right back as soon as he’s gone, and simmers throughout the early morning.

It’s painful and tiring, and Clarke’s exhausted and emotional as the minutes tick into hours and she waits out her body getting itself ready.  It isn’t until after three in the morning that she’s told it’s time to start pushing, and she pushes away her exhaustion to put in the final rounds of effort.

And then, about an hour later, her baby is born, at 4.23 am on the 10th of December.

Nyko dries it off as Clarke watches on in awe. “It’s a girl,” he announces with a smile, handing over the tiny, squirming, crying human to Clarke, Raven and Abby leaning in close to look at her.

She has to pass the afterbirth a few minutes later, but soon enough everything is done, and Clarke is able to just stare at the precious baby in her arms.

She’s perfect, is all Clarke can think as she holds her close, and despite being beyond exhausted, she feels a burst of energy as she gazes down at her daughter. She’s small, skin flushed pink over a complexion closer to Bellamy’s than her own. She has his eyes, big and brown and warm, which makes her heart lurch, and a small, button nose, soft, plump lips.

She quiets down as Clarke soothes her crying, stroking her cheek with her thumb and rocking softly, and stares up at Clarke as she watches back in wonder.

Thirty minutes and Clarke’s not sure how anyone can love someone as much as she already loves her daughter. She didn’t realise it was possible.

“You did it,” Raven says quietly from beside her, sending Clarke a proud smile, tears in her eyes. “I told you you could.”

“She’s perfect, honey,” her mum adds.

Clarke stares back down in complete awe. “Yeah, she is,” she agrees.

She’s the most perfect thing Clarke’s ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhh sorry sorry sorry. I felt very bad for not bringing Bellamy back for Clarke's pregnancy :( but I wanted to keep to what the original idea for this fic was, which meant as much as it pained me, Bellamy didn't come to the rescue.  
> I at least hope you guys enjoyed the gang with the lack of bellarke.  
> Next chapter- time jumps????  
> Comments? Feeling? (Sorry)  
> Also, Halloween costume: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/181973641164826744/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long one again- over an even longer time period.  
> Hope you enjoy!

“She’s just so precious,” Clarke whispers, stroking her daughter’s cheek softly with her thumb.

“And so tiny,” Wells adds, voice just as quiet.

They’re sitting on Clarke’s bed, staring down at the small, sleeping baby her friend is currently holding. It’s his second time meeting her, but he’s still looking at her in absolute wonder. Not that Clarke can blame him; she’s been with her daughter almost every second this past week and hasn’t managed to wipe the expression off her face. Okay, maybe when she’s screaming her heart out at three in the morning, but  _still_. It’s pretty incredible.

“Got a pretty good set of lungs though,” Clarke says, on that note. “Mum says she inherited that from me. Apparently it’s karma.”

“Sounds about right,” Wells says with a soft laugh, knocking his shoulder against Clarke’s playfully. She glares back, but it’s hard to hold with much conviction, with the sight that’s currently in front of her: her daughter in her best friend’s arms. It’s probably going to be a problem, in the future; one that will most likely start in the next few minutes. “What time is it?” Wells asks, as if reading her mind. “The others will probably be getting here soon.”

Clarke looks down at her phone, finding it’s almost six. “Yeah, the next ten minutes or so,” she says.

“And you’re sure you’re ready for everyone?” He asks. “You might want to let this little one go a few more days of life without meeting the delinquents.”

Clarke chuckles quietly. “I’m honestly not confident Jasper wouldn’t break into the house and steal her if I left it any longer,” she says, smiling softly when the baby sighs in her sleep. She’ll probably be waking up soon, having been down for the past few hours.

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Wells agrees with a wry smile. “But you are feeling up to it, yeah? It’s not just for everyone else’s benefit?”

Looking back up to him, Clarke gives her friend a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I am,” she says. “I’m feeling good. Ridiculously tired, of course, but a lot more settled now than I was when I first got back from hospital. Trust me, if I didn’t want anyone over, I would tell you.”

“Okay, I can at least count on that,” Wells agrees, amused. “Just make sure you kick everyone out when you want to. I feel like baby brain will wipe any of their abilities to take social cues.”

“You say that like any of them have some to start with,” Clarke says, and Wells snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes when she simply shrugs. “But I promise I will.”

The baby startles then, blinking up blearily in a way Clarke’s already become familiar with, soft and sleepy and completely adorable. It makes her heart swell; burst with more love than she ever thought she contained. She’s still waiting for the awe over her daughter to subside, but she’s not sure it ever will.

“Hi precious,” Wells coos, pitching his voice in a way that is completely ridiculous and definitely unavoidable when talking to a baby. “How did you sleep? Are you ready to meet all your aunts and uncles?”

And okay, babies generally cry when they wake up, but it’s still pretty funny, timing wise, that the baby then opens her mouth and starts wailing.

“Here,” Clarke says, holding out her arms as she bites back a laugh. “She might be hungry. Do you think you can go downstairs and let people in when they come? I’ll be down soon.”

“Yeah, of course,” Wells says, leaning down to press a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “Be good to your mum, bub,” he whispers, sending Clarke a grin before he heads out of her room.

Clarke settles in easily, pulling her top and nursing bra down before adjusting the baby until she latches on, stops crying in favour of having something to eat.

It took her a few days to feel confident about breast feeding, having trouble with latching and getting overwhelmed and stressed about it, but she’s mostly comfortable with it now. Abby helped a lot, with experience both as a doctor and a mother, and her support was endlessly helpful during those first days that left Clarke feeling particularly hopeless. On top of that, both she and Marcus have helped out a ridiculous amount, basically picking up all the slack that Clarke no longer can now that she’s taking care of her daughter pretty much 24/7. It’s been a crazy and incredibly tiring week, but she’s getting there.

She swaps the baby over after a few minutes, stroking her cheek for some soft comfort as she smiles down at her. After another ten minutes or so, she seems to be full, and Clarke tidies herself up before settling the baby down on the bed to re-swaddle her. Once satisfied with her efforts, she picks her up and heads downstairs to meet everyone, readying herself for the most likely very enthusiastic hour to come.

Monty sees her first, and a minute later she’s handing the baby over carefully as they sit next to each other on the couch. “Just support her head,” Clarke says, adjusting his hold slightly before sending him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, smiling soft and wide down at the baby. “Hello, baby. Hello. I’m Monty.”

Clarke laughs quietly, pressing her grin into his shoulder. “She does have a name,” she tells him, smiling down at the baby before looking up to properly regard the rest of her friends. Raven, Wells, Miller, Harper, Jasper and Maya; everyone she’s closest with. “Is there any money on that?”

“I can’t believe that’s even a question,” Jasper says with a playful scoff. “Mine is still on some interpretation of my name. But  _seriously._  Have you left us all in the dark on purpose?”

“I literally gave birth a week ago,” Clarke reminds, rolling her eyes fondly. “And I didn't completely decide until yesterday, anyway. To see whether the name suited her. Besides, settling your bets hasn't really been a priority of mine.”

“Okay, point, but -- come on, Clarke; we’re dying here.”

She snorts, but decides to be nice. “Okay, okay. I actually had a few I liked, but, like I said -- I had to meet her before deciding. And, um, the two names I already loved were no longer an option. I’ve always really liked Grace, but it feels a little cruel to call my kid Grace Griffin. And Isabella sounds way too much like Bellamy, so that was out too. So, anyway, after meeting her and seeing what she’s like, I’ve landed on Gemma.”

“Gemma?” Jasper repeats, eyes lighting up excitedly. “I can argue that that sounds a lot like my name.”

“Shut up, Jas,” Maya huffs, shoving her boyfriend lightly in the arm. “That’s lovely, Clarke. Have you thought of a middle name?”

“Yeah. Rose, my mum’s middle name. So, Gemma Rose Griffin,” she says, mouth pulling into a slow smile as she looks down at her daughter, still in Monty's arms. She’s been trialling it for the past few days, just seeing how she likes it, but it definitely suits the baby, and Clarke can’t imagine her as anything else now. She loves it a lot. So, “That’s her name”, she says, and can’t help but grin when her friends give enthusiastic support to her choice.

They talk easily after that, Gemma being passed around as Clarke recounts how the past few days have been for her, which is basically summarised as both very tiring and very incredible. She's informed that Miller won the bet for date of birth, edging off Jasper by one day, and that she's owed $8 for guessing the sex correctly. There are a lot of questions as well; what time the baby was born and how much she weighed and how she’s been sleeping, and Clarke diligently answers all of them. Photos are taken and videos are recorded, and Clarke feels her heart swell as she watches each of her friends meet her daughter, sees the way they light up and start baby talking, all soft and excited and gentle as they hold her.

It’s about forty minutes before she’s made the rounds and is handed back to Clarke, starting to get restless and sleepy. She’s been up for less than an hour, but apparently babies get tired doing absolutely nothing.

Clarke soothes her a little, but knowing she’ll need to put her down properly, tells everyone she's going to take her back upstairs for now. Thankfully her friends aren’t too ridiculous about it, and she manages to get Gemma off to sleep without a huge amount of fuss, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping out of her room, baby monitor in hand.

Her friends stay a little while longer, and they catch up on non-baby related things as Clarke sips on a nice cup of tea; plans for Christmas and New Year's, a new series Raven and Wells are obsessed with and trying to convince everyone else to watch, Harper going on a second date with a girl called Monroe, Monty meeting Miller's dad in the next few days. It's all nice and easy, and Clarke enjoys just being able to relax as everyone chats away, sending Wells a thankful smile when he starts folding some laundry she hasn't been able to get to. It's only when Marcus and Abby return from grocery shopping at half past seven that everyone makes a move to leave, each giving Clarke a long, warm hug when she walks them to the door.

“You're doing it,” Raven says when she pulls Clarke in and squeezes her tight, the last in line. “I told you you could.”

Clarke ducks her head with a smile, before telling her friend to stop being so sappy and get out of here, but the sentiment stays with her for the rest of the evening; as Gemma wakes up and needs to be changed and washed and fed, as Clarke holds her close and soothes her when she starts crying for no apparent reason, as she sings her off to sleep again later in the evening before finally getting a chance to get some rest herself.

Freshly showered and struggling to keep her eyes up, Clarke checks on her daughter quietly before falling into bed with a sleepy sigh.

Ridiculously tired and ridiculously happy. She’s doing it.

**

The following week is much of the same as the first one was; a haze of looking after Gemma primarily, and then eating, sleeping and showering whenever she gets the chance.

Clarke gets some semblance of a routine down though, and by the time Christmas day arrives, is a pro at both changing diapers and washing baby vomit from her hair, which feels a lot more impressive than it probably is.

The day itself is spent with Abby, Marcus and Gemma at home, as well as a Skype call to the family lunch up in Chicago they’re missing. It’s pretty bizarre, knowing that this time last year she was back there, in her home state, getting tipsy off hard eggnog and catching up with the few extended family members she actually likes, with absolutely no idea of what was to come in her life. Now she’s dressing Gemma up in a Christmas-themed outfit; a onesie with little reindeer on it that Raven gave her.

It’s one of the many baby presents she’s received from both her friends and her family, adding to the collection of clothes and books and toys and actual baby necessities she’s got stocked. She’ll probably be able to dress Gemma until she’s one with how much people have indulged her, but Abby said it’s to be expected, seeing that Gemma’s the first baby in her friendship group and grandchild in the family.

But despite the day feelings all sorts of bizarre, it’s also incredibly nice. Gemma’s only two weeks old of course, and can’t moderate her needs at all just because it’s Christmas, so Clarke still spends a lot of it tending to her; soothing her cries and breast feeding her when she’s hungry and changing her diapers and putting her down to sleep every few hours. But there’s a decorated Christmas tree and presents to unwrap and pictures to take and a truly ridiculous amount of food, and a warmth settles in Clarke’s chest at the end of the day, when she’s sitting in bed, Gemma on her breast and Abby beside her. Her daughter’s first Christmas, at only two weeks old.

“How’d you find today?” Her mum asks, soft and maybe even a little slurred, because she definitely had a few hard eggnogs herself.

Clarke bites back a sleepy but amused smile. “It was nice. I’m totally exhausted, but it was nice. It’s a little odd that it’s already Christmas, when she’s so young, but I can’t deny that tiny holiday-themed onesies are adorable.”

“They definitely are,” Abby hums softly. “My baby and her baby. Didn’t think I’d ever be here for this a few years ago.”

Clarke looks up from Gemma, offers her mum a small smile. “Yeah, me either,” she admits. “I’m glad we are though. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You could’ve. You’re the most capable person I know. But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

Clarke ducks her head with another smile, feeling an odd sense of embarrassment at Abby’s words. She still feels like a kid mostly, only twenty two and relying so heavily on everyone around her, and it’s hard to know how things would be without the safety net her mum provides, other than  _harder._  But still, there’s a part of her that thinks she could’ve figured it out, and she’s glad she didn’t have to, but it’s nice to think.

“I think I get it,” she says after a few minutes of quiet, looking back up at Abby. “Even with everything that happened with us, after Dad I mean, I never really doubted that you’d be there if I needed. We were both grieving and we were both angry, really bad at letting anyone in, but I never doubted that you still loved me. And I get it now.” She looks back down at Gemma, eyes big and curious even as she's latched onto Clarke's breast, and smiles. “No matter what happens between us, you’ll always love me. Just like I’ll always love her.”

Abby laughs softly. “It’s called being a mother, darling.”

“Well it’s nice,” Clarke says, resting her head on Abby’s shoulder. “I’ve never gotten it, really — how you could love something so unconditionally. She’s not even a real person yet, and honestly, she’s mostly just making my life really hard and exhausting so far. But I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, either. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything as much as I love her.”

“It’s a great feeling. Nothing better than loving someone and being loved back.”

Clarke hums in agreement. “I’m glad you found Marcus,” she says after a moment. It’s not something they talk about often, but it feels like a good thing to offer while they’re somewhat on topic. “I know how shitty I was after Dad, but — I’m really glad you’re happy now. I’m glad you feel loved.”

“So am I,” Abby says. “But I’ll never forget Jake. You know that, don’t you?” Clarke nods, feeling herself get a little teary, which she’ll blame on sleep deprivation. “He’d be so proud of you, Clarke,” she adds, finding Clarke’s free hand and giving it a squeeze.

Clarke can’t help a short laugh, readjusting Gemma when it makes her squirm. “Sorry, baby,” she whispers, stroking her daughter’s cheek as she re-latches. “Yeah,” she says to her mum, dry. “Who wouldn’t be proud of a daughter getting knocked up at twenty two to a guy her kid’s never going to meet?” The truth is, she knows deep down her dad would be proud of her. It’s guilt that makes her say it, the undeniable feeling of it that tugs at her heart whenever she looks into Gemma’s eyes. “It’s just — it’s her first Christmas, her first big milestone or something, and he’s not here. He should be, for her. She deserves to have a father, and Bellamy deserves to know he is one.” Abby stays quiet, letting Clarke work through her thoughts, and eventually she lands on: “I’m angry. I’m angry that I got into this situation. Not — not  _Gem,_  because she’s amazing, and I could never be angry about that, but the situation of being by myself. And I’m angry at Bellamy, for knocking me up and then being unreachable. No online presence, no forwarding address, no acquaintances I know of that know how to reach him. But I’m also — I can’t  _hate_ him. Not when he’s given me the most precious thing on earth. I’m feeling a lot of things; it’s confusing.”

“I know, darling, I know,” Abby soothes softly. “You feel whatever it is you feel, and don’t worry about whether or not it’s the right thing to be feeling.”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, sitting up properly when Gemma pulls away and placing a bib over her shoulder for burping. “Thanks, Mum.”

She puts Gemma down in her crib not long later, once the little girl starts blinking sleepily in her arms, and knows the confusing feelings are something she’ll probably grow used to.

**

The new year starts with a bang.

Well, with fireworks. They keep Gemma crying through most of the night, and Clarke feeling older than her twenty two years when she’s cursing the ridiculousness of the display the city insists on making.

The next few months go on slowly but surely. She spends most of her time with Gemma, learning to be a new mother, which is more exhausting and rewarding than anything else in her life has ever been. They build things up slowly, starting a new mother’s group to get Clarke out of the house and interacting with other new and local mums; taking Gemma to run errands and grocery shop with Abby or Marcus as back up; visiting friends to introduce Gem to various new places once she’s got her first vaccinations.

The daily grind is much of the same.

Gemma cries and sleeps and eats, and Clarke manages about the same.

Raven reluctantly tells Clarke that she slept with Wick.

Wells calls and rants about his dad trying to make him move back to Chicago now that he’s finished his degree.

The gang texts updates the first time Harper introduces her new girlfriend Monroe to them.

She turns twenty three on the 20th of February, and the gang comes around for dinner and drinks at the house. Raven brings a tacky banner that Clarke wholeheartedly loves, and Jasper and Monty helium balloons. She gets a  _birthday girl_ tiara and sash _,_  and has her first sip of alcohol in almost a year. It’s only a half glass of wine, timed just after she’s fed Gemma, but god it’s nice.

The whole night is nice, a little different from what she would’ve expected for future birthdays a year ago, but she’s got her best friends in the world and good food and music, and she laughs so much her belly aches; it’s hard to be disappointed that they’re not going out dancing and getting wasted.

And it’s not like it’s stopping everyone  _else_  from getting wasted. By the time they’re doing presents Clarke and Wells are the only ones who aren’t drunk, which means when she opens her gift from Harper and reveals a vibrator, it’s met with a ridiculous amount of laughter, jeers and hollering.

Clarke rolls her eyes, biting back a smile as she adds it to the pile of other presents she’s received.

“Thanks for that, Harp.”

“Could do you some good, Clarke,” Harper giggles, knocking their shoulders together. “I hear being a new mum is stressful.”

Clarke snorts, but doesn’t disagree. It is, and she could definitely use some relief.

“Yeah. Happy birthday to me.”

**

The rest of Gemma’s first year goes probably as well as can be expected. She goes through all the normal stages, hits all the typical milestones, and Clarke cries at basically every one there is.

By March she’s laughing and smiling, trying her very hardest to roll over and making the most ridiculous of faces in her effort to do so, and in April she’s reaching for everything her tiny, little hands can get to. She starts to babble a lot, too, strings together random sounds and tries to copy what’s said to her, and the first time she eventually gets out a “mamama” Clarke tears up despite knowing better.

“I’m pretty sure she’s just trying to say Marcus,” he tells her when it happens, a teasing smile on his face, and all Clarke can do is shove him and laugh.

“Shut up,” she says, already pulling out her phone in the hopes of recording the sound to send to her friends.

They start going out more together, visiting people and going on walks to the park and running errands here and there, and it isn’t long before Clarke experiences the wonders of a child that won’t settle in public. It’s awful, and it knocks her confidence for the rest of the day, but she feels better after a night’s sleep and is mostly ready to tackle the next day as a new one, after a good pep-talking from her mum, at least.

She’s learning as she goes, and she’ll probably never feel like she’s completely covered, prepared for anything and everything, but she doesn’t think any parent ever really feels that way. And besides, she’s got a good support network — it’s enough.

In May, she decides to visit Grounders, see how everyone is. It’s maybe not the best look, bringing a baby into a bar, but the place isn’t actually too bad, and it’s before-hours anyway. Plus, she misses these parts of her old life, no matter how hard working late shifts with drunken customers could be. She liked her coworkers, and Anya did make her promise not to be a stranger once the baby came.

So she heads in with Raven in the afternoon, because her friend still lives close and wants to hang out with the baby always, and they find Murphy and Anya working together behind the bar, getting ready to open in an hour.

Anya sees her first, barks out a laugh as her eyes flit over the stroller. “Bringing a baby in here? Really, Griffin?” But she comes around from behind the bar anyway.

Murphy follows, and Clarke even sees a small smile play at his lips at the sight of her daughter.

“I thought I’d let her check out the hole in the wall I used to work in,” Clarke says, mouth ticking up in a familiar smirk. It’s nice to know these relationships haven’t changed, with everything.

“Yeah, yeah. Missed you too, Griffin,” Murphy says, rolling his eyes. He nods over to Gemma. “How old is she?”

“Just over five months,” she tells him as she picks the little girl up, settles her against her chest. “Her name’s Gemma.”

“Cute name,” Murphy says, coming over to stand by Clarke. He holds a hand out to Gemma, looks to bite back a smile when she wraps her tiny fist around a single finger of his. “Cute baby.”

Clarke manages to hide her laugh, sending Raven an amused look over her shoulder. Murphy likes babies; who knew?

With an hour until opening, they’re not too busy, just getting everything ready for the evening, so Clarke doesn’t feel too bad for monopolising some of their time. Plus, when Murphy gets distracted with Gemma, Anya isn’t shy in telling Clarke to get off her ass and help out, and that’s nice too. She always liked working with her coworkers, was lucky to get along with all of them pretty well, and she’s missed hanging out with them, finding out what’s new in their lives. And the work comes back to her quickly, muscle memory after the few years she spent working at the bar; making sure there are enough clean glasses, that the various bottles of alcohol are stocked and the kegs of tap beer and cider are full, that there’s enough cash in the till for the night.

She actually finds she likes it, and while she wouldn’t want to come back to Grounders, she wonders whether she should start thinking about going back to work seriously.

But the offhand thought is pushed to the side, something to come back to later, as soon as Murphy mentions that he’s seeing someone new.

“Emori Jacobs?” Clarke asks, sharing an amused look with Raven. Murphy nods, frowning slightly even as he bounces Gemma up and down lightly in his arms.

“She was the sonographer throughout most of Clarke's pregnancy,” Raven explains, and that startles a surprised laugh out of him. “She’s actually the one who confirmed that that little one was a reality.”

Murphy chuckles again, looking down at Gem with a wry smile. Clarke thinks he’ll be joining their group get togethers a lot more regularly from now on; he looks absolutely smitten with her daughter.

“Small world,” he says, and Clarke laughs in agreement.

They get swept up into another conversation soon enough, and she and Raven head off once the first customers start trailing in, but her earlier thought comes back to her as she drives home, Gemma being lulled to sleep in the car.

“I think I might want to go back to work,” Clarke tells her mum later in the evening, as they fold up some washing together.

“Yeah?” Abby says, without missing a beat, and Clarke breathes out a breath, her anxiety dissipating slightly.

“Yeah,” Clarke says, tucking her legs under herself. “Not full time or anything, but it might be nice, getting back into it.”

“I think that's a good idea,” Abby says, finishing up Gemma's pile of clothing with a tiny pair of socks tucked into themselves. She looks up properly when Clarke doesn't respond, regarding her for a moment before continuing. “It's not a bad thing, darling,” she says, gentle this time. Clarke wonders what her face looks like to make her mum speak in that tone, but it must be completely transparent, because Abby's already hit the nail on the head. It feels like a recurring theme: Clarke worrying and Abby talking her down. “Becoming a mother doesn't make you any less you, you know,” she says, mouth ticking up in a wry smile. “It consumes your whole life for a little while, becomes your entire world, but wanting things for yourself, wanting a little independence? It's not a bad thing. And it doesn't make you a bad parent.” She takes her hand and squeezes it softly. “If you think you're ready to go back to work, I think that's great. You should give Callie a call and see whether she can take you back on.”

Clarke nods. “Yeah,” she says, soft, before clearing her throat. “That's a good idea. I think I'm going to mull it over for a few more days, just to be sure, but — I think it could be good.” She gives her mum's hand a squeeze back, offers her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Mum.”

It doesn’t actually take that long for Clarke to come to her decision, but it is a few days until she lets herself text Callie and ask whether she’d be okay with her coming back. Thankfully Callie responds very enthusiastically, and they hash out plans for a trial shift.

And it goes well. Feels a lot like falling back into something that she always enjoyed. The work is good without being overly demanding, and the day confirms the feelings that were rattling around in Clarke’s chest — that it’d be nice to have a little bit of time to herself during the week, even if it is just while restocking and in between customers. By the end of the afternoon, she and Callie have organised to have her in for three morning shifts a week, and it feels like a good start to everything.

Something Clarke’s excited to do, even if she’s still a little nervous too.

But with her decision made, she gets on track to planning mode, and starts a vetting process for hiring a part time nanny. And because the universe is feeling generous, it doesn’t take long to find someone that feels right. Gemma warms up to Fox instantly, the young woman seeming just as smitten with her daughter as she is with her, and they’re able to work out a schedule that suits everyone. Three morning a week where Clarke cuddles and kisses her daughter goodbye, and spends a couple of hours adjusting back to the life of work that doesn’t involve changing diapers, cleaning up spit up, and playing peek-a-boo.

And that’s how May runs into June; everyone just getting used to this new routine of theirs.

Gemma starts becoming more of a real person during those months, starts sitting up by herself and waving goodbye to Clarke when she heads off for the day. Tummy time turns into crawling and holding onto toys becomes bashing them together to create a whole lot of noise, and Clarke’s days are both incredible and exhausting, adjusting to this new balance of motherhood and working in her life.

But work, it’s honestly really great — carving out a few hours of the week for Clarke to do something that’s just hers, and while the pay isn’t amazing, she’s still getting more than she was when she wasn’t working. Besides, she’s already come to accept that she’s once again partially financially dependent on her mum. She’s got her savings, and receives a small amount from the government fortnightly, but with six months of unemployment and both a pregnancy and then a baby to pay for, she’s had to rely more on Abby than she thought she ever would again. It can be hard, when her college years were spent striving her hardest to get by on her own, but with Gemma, it’s just not something she can sustain. She and Abby talked it over a lot, before Gem was born, and the truth is, her mum has a lot of money, and while Clarke doesn’t want the support longterm, it would be silly and honestly irresponsible to say no to it for the short-term.

And she’s starting to think longterm, too, about how her next few years will be spent, outside of being a mother.

She’d decided that med school wasn’t happening before she found out about her pregnancy, but she never really managed to set her heart on anything else before Gemma’s existence took over her entire life.

Now, though, with the bits of time she gets to herself, just to think, with those feelings still rattling around in her chest, both the excitement and the anxiousness, she feels ready to try something new.

“Teaching?” Raven repeats, when Clarke tells her about the idea that she’s been turning over in her mind for a few weeks now.

“Yeah,” Clarke says with a nod, a small smile beginning to pull on her lips. “It’s not something I’ve ever really considered before, but once I thought about it, it felt — not like a  _calling,_  or anything, but it felt like something I could really like.”

“Yeah?” Raven asks, matching her smile with an even bigger grin.

“Yeah,” she says, settling back properly now that the words are out there. Not that Raven would ever force her to be held accountable for them, really, but it feels more real now that she’s said it out loud. “I mean, it’s been a year since I finished my degree, and it’s been a crazy busy year, don’t get me wrong, but it feels like time to start back up again. And Gem’s seven months now, will hopefully be off the waiting list of a day care in not too long, so that’ll make things easier, over having an in-house nanny. And I want to start planning for the future, as lame as that sounds. I want to be able to support me and Gem by myself one day, I don’t want to have to live here and disrupt Mum and Marcus’ lives, no matter how much they would insist I’m not. I just — I feel like I can at least start  _preparing_  for it all. I feel like I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” Raven says, without missing a beat. “Babe, I think it’s great. A lot to take on, with Gem, but you’ve never been one to not do something because it’s challenging. And knowing you, you’ve already done your research and planning before even coming here.”

“I have made a spreadsheet on Excel,” Clarke admits, scrunching up her nose and slapping Raven in the arm when her friend cackles. “Shut up! It’s how my brain works.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raven says, still chuckling, before knocking their arms together lightly. “Well, come on, then. Show me the spreadsheet, and we’ll go from there.”

Clarke nods, giving Raven another smile before heading up to her room to grab her laptop.

Careful to be quiet, she pushes open the door to Gemma’s room, finding the little girl sleeping soundly, face relaxed, chest rising and falling evenly, still obviously tired for the last few hours they’ve been playing together. She’ll probably be up in an hour or so, ready for something to eat and fussing until Clarke gets her on her breast, as is routine, but for now, she’s as peaceful as can be.

Clarke really wants to build a good life for them both.

Smiling, she slips into the room to quickly press a kiss onto Gemma’s forehead, before heading back downstairs, laptop in hand.

“Okay,” she says, pulling up her different documents of research. “So I’ve looked into programs that are somewhat within the area, and I’m comparing, you know, the usual: length of program, cost, location of campus, percentage of graduates with jobs, that kind of thing.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Raven says, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, looking ready to get to business, before turning to Clarke, quirking an eyebrow. “Also, are you seriously telling me the kid’s been on waiting lists for  _childcare_ for  _seven months_? That is beyond fucked up.”

Clarke laughs loudly, shaking her head with wry amusement. “Rave, I put her on a waiting list before she was even  _born_. Fucked up doesn't even begin to describe it.”

**

She applies for a program that’s both conveniently located and accepts part-time students, and finds out a month later that she’s been accepted.

It’s a surreal process, enrolling, getting organised for the first semester, preparing a schedule that will fit in classes, time for study, work, and most importantly,  _Gemma._

Her little girl has been good, adjusting probably as well as can be expected to Clarke no longer spending almost all her time with her. Clarke misses her when they’re not together, makes sure she gets updates from Fox, photos and videos to stare at and rewatch during her downtimes at uni or work, but thankfully between dropping down to two shifts a week and not taking on a full load of subjects, she and Gem are still able to spend a lot of time together, still have plenty of time for play and cuddles and laughter.

Being back at college is weird, but a good kind of weird. With so much that’s happened since the last time she sat in a lecture or participated in a tute, of course it’s weird, but there’s no denying she’s missed using her brain like this, missed having this type of goal to work towards. After only a few weeks of classes, she knows she’s made the right choice. By the beginning of October, it’s has slipped right into her routine, her planner filling with dates for tests and assignments and readings to go along with various Gemma-related outings, shifts at work and get togethers with friends.

They still try to hang out together every couple of weeks, and manage pretty well if Clarke’s being honest. It can be hard to coordinate, everyone busy with their own lives, but having a fallback Monday movie night the first and third week of every month helps, and Gemma definitely motivates people to make the effort after a day at work. They love getting cuddle times with her — Murphy’s even somewhat a regular now, because of it.

“You’re one of us now,” Clarke says, pinching at his cheek as Gemma does the same to his other, when he rocks up with Emori in tow. It’s incredibly odd, seeing her again after so long, reconciling the woman that confirmed Clarke’s pregnancy with an ultrasound, that reassured her that Gemma was looking strong and healthy each visit they had together, to the person dating  _Murphy,_  but Clarke can admit that they actually seem to suit each other.

Murphy eyes Gemma before cutting a glare to Clarke. She knows what he’s thinking — that he wishes he could tell her to fuck off. He’s even moderating his language now. It’s great.

“Oh, shove it,” he ends up grumbling, and Clarke laughs happily, dropping down on the couch between Raven and Wells, watching as Murphy entertains Gem as the rest of them argue over takeout cuisine.

They eventually land on pizza, which Monty points out isn’t really a  _cuisine,_  and Raven tells him to “shove it”, in less kid-friendly terms (after making sure Gem was sufficiently distracted), and the usual banter quickly starts being exchanged. Between discussions of Halloween costumes, updates on Gemma-related milestones, and bitchings about work and colleagues, they eventually make the rounds to Raven’s upcoming birthday.

“The big two-five,” Wells says. “Inviting anyone special?” He adds, teasing, as he throws a grin Raven’s way, one she tries to scowl at in response.

Despite having been sleeping together for over six months now, Raven has only brought Wick around to meet everyone a handful of times. He’s a nice guy, Clarke thinks, scruffy and funny and willing to challenge Raven, which is definitely a good thing, but apparently Raven is happy to keep him sweating about the status of their relationship.

_Hanging out_  is Raven’s preferred terminology, but Clarke is quietly sure that it will be updated soon. She’s had to listen to an increase in complaints about the man, and while she would not normally equate that to progression of a relationship, in Raven’s case — and when the complaints consist of “stupid, considerate ass buying me tampons  _and_  chocolate” — she’s quite confident.

“Maybe,” Raven says, scrunching up her nose before waving her hand, as if pushing away the insinuation. “But that’s unimportant. What  _is_ important, is that you all know what to get me: booze. Also, to make things easier, we’ll shove a Halloween party in with it. Dates don’t exactly line up, but Halloween’s on a weekday and we’re all probably working the day after, so.” She shrugs, apparently finished with her explanation as she gets up and steals Gem from Murphy.

“Think she’ll ever admit she actually  _likes_  Wick?” Wells asks quietly, leaning in to ask Clarke with a wry smile.

“Eventually,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes fondly. “But you know her. She hates admitting to her feelings. My little Raven,” she adds, letting out a small laugh. “Growing up.”

“I am older than you, you know,” Raven calls, shooting both her and Wells a look as she dances around with Gemma on her hip. “ _And,_  you’re not as quiet as you think you are.”

“I have a baby,” Clarke informs her, ignoring the second comment completely. “I think that qualifies as me being automatically older than all of you.”

“Whatever,” Raven grumbles, attention back on Gem as the rest of them begin to argue over which of them would be considered the oldest in terms of factors other than actual age.

But no matter what's offered, Clarke still has Gemma as a trump card.

**

Wells wolf-whistles the moment Clarke makes her way down the stairs, Gemma on his hip as his eyes roam teasingly over her outfit.

“Hey, hot stuff,” he says, smile growing wide as she screws her nose up at him.

“Did you seriously just say  _hot stuff_?” She asks, taking Gem from him once she reaches the landing. She smacks a kiss on her little chubby cheek. “Your uncle is a very lame person, baby,” she tells her, bouncing the little girl up and down until she starts giggling like she always does. “Yes he is! Yes he is the lamest person to ever exist!”

“Hey, don’t corrupt her young mind,” Wells says, biting back a smile as he flicks Clarke on the forehead.

“My daughter to corrupt,” she counters, making him chuckle. Her mouth pulls into a grin of its own when she looks him up and down, taking in the Captain America costume he’s donning. “You’re looking pretty hot stuff there yourself, Cap. Planning on getting l-a-i-d tonight?”

He shrugs. “I’m not against it, but not looking for it particularly. Sometimes I just want to look hot, Clarke.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Definitely fair enough. Okay, how about we get this show on the road. I don’t actually want to be wearing this outfit for three hours before the party starts. Mum,” she calls out, sticking her tongue out when Wells rolls his eyes. He always tells her off for yelling instead of looking.

“Kitchen,” Abby calls back. She’s sorting out Halloween candy, in case there are any early door-knockers, but she stops when they step into the kitchen. “Well don’t you both look fantastic,” she says, grinning as she goes to give Wells a hug before taking Gem from Clarke’s arms. “Okay, a few photos, and then you better be off.”

“We know the drill,” Clarke reminds, sharing a smile with Wells as they both shuffle over to a wall, just like they did every Halloween when they were kids. It’s a time old tradition, having their photo taken together while they’re dressed in their Halloween getup, and Abby was very excited to keep the tradition going when she moved over to LA.

They get multiple shots, Gemma joining in for the last few, before Clarke calls time and Abby lets them go get changed back into their regular clothes. (Clarke did point out they could just get photos taken once they were  _at_  the party, but Abby insisted it just wasn’t the same as taking them herself.)

It’s another twenty minutes before they manage to get out of the house, between Clarke kissing and cuddling Gem goodbye, and giving last-minute instructions to a patient-but-amused Abby, who kindly reminds Clarke she’s been living with the little girl for the ten months of her life too.

“I know where the bottles of milk are in the fridge, Clarke,” she says, finally resorting to pushing her gently out the front door, Wells trying his hardest not to laugh at the scene. “And I promise rubber-ducky will be there for bath time; I know she fusses without it.”

“Okay, okay,” Clarke grumbles, elbowing Wells in the arm before giving Gem one final kiss. “Love you, baby girl. And thank you, Mum.”

“It’s fine. Now  _go_ — before Raven bites your head off for being late.”

They’re still the first two to get there — outside of Monty, of course — and after smothering Raven with love and affection and  _Happy Birthday_ s, spend the next two hours helping with last minute organisation and set up as the rest of the gang slowly trickles in. The place looks great, Raven and Monty finding a good blend between birthday and Halloween in their decoration choices, which means about 90% creepy stuff and 10% balloons. They’ve got Monty’s good sound system hooked up, as well as their multiple gaming systems, and there’s a decent amount of booze and food in the kitchen, which is probably the most important thing. By the time they should be getting ready themselves, the apartment is looking very party-ready.

“Just one of my many talents, babe,” Raven says breezily, as she steals her away to start getting ready. “It can be a pain to be as well-rounded as I am, but someone in our friendship group has to be.”

Clarke snorts. “Yeah, and there’s a decent dose of modesty to top it off.”

Raven grins. “Oh, definitely. Now, come on,” she adds, tugging Clarke into her room. There’s a sign on the door threatening bodily harm for entering without Raven’s explicit instructions, which is to be expected. “I’m excited to see what you look like all done up. I swear I’ve forgotten what your boobs look like.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, grabbing various items from her bag. “You’ve seen my boobs so many times over the past year. I swear every time I see you they’ve been out.”

“Okay, point,” she allows. “You are very shameless about breast feeding.”

“And so I should be.”

“And so you should be,” Raven agrees. “But you know what I mean. It’s been a while you got all dressed up and sexy. Understandably, of course, but I am excited. You’re hot, babe.”

“Thanks,” Clarke chuckles, sending Raven a wry smile. “Means a lot.”

To be fair, her costume does make her look pretty hot. Short baby blue dress, white apron, thigh high white stockings and black boots to turn her into Alice, and makeup to shift it from a sweet version, to kind of gorey-kind of sexy. She definitely still has some sex appeal left in her, which is always nice to remember.

It helps when she gets another few wolf whistles as she reveals her final costume to the gang as they organise a round of shots before the party begins.

“You’re a milf, Clarke,” Harper calls out excitedly, knocking their hips together as she laughs. She may have already had a few.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke chuckles, taking the shot Miller offers. “Direct all the weird college boys with single mum kinks my way, tonight. Totally what I’m after.”

“At least you’re being honest,” Monty teases, and they cheers to that.

People start rolling in around eight, and it’s not long before drinks are flowing, music is blaring, and video games are being played on rotation. It’s fun and carefree and young in a way Clarke hasn’t experienced in what feels like forever, and she lets herself have more than a few drinks, lets herself grind with Raven and sing with Miller and play beer-pong with Jasper, laugh and chat and hang out with her friends and get pleasantly drunk, to that stage where she’s warm and happy and her mind is a little fuzzy around the edges. She teases Raven about Wick once he rocks up, and has a fun time getting to know him, among other random friends and co-workers of Raven’s she doesn’t know. She and Monty heckle it out as they play  _Mario Kart_ , and Maya trumps everyone at pin-the-boo-on-the-ghost, and Clarke even sees Wells hit it off with a cute brunette later in the night.

Speeches are announced with Monty’s sharp whistle, and Clarke gets to pour out her heart to her best friend, getting laughs and cheers from the crowd with the funnier stories, and the typical  _aww_ s for the sappier ones, and Raven’s grin is huge as she envelopes her in a big hug, calls her a big loser for getting so emotional.

“Shut up, you love me,” Clarke laughs, squeezing her friend tight. “Happy birthday, Rave.”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess it wasn’t such a bad one.” She pulls back, gives Clarke a wry grin. “Is it weird I kinda wish Gem was here? It feels weird celebrating things without her now.”

“Do you want me to call Mum up and get her to bring her around?” Clarke offers teasingly, getting a contemplative look in response. Gem has been on her mind throughout the evening, mostly because she’s just kind of always there, but it’s been nice to have a night out with her friends. Still, she’s getting ready to go back home to her; it doesn’t take long before she’s missing her little girl.

“It’s only two,” Raven says, mild. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind making the drive.”

Clarke snorts a laugh, hooking her arm around Raven’s shoulder as Monty begins to count everyone down to sing  _Happy Birthday._  Clarke finds herself grinning the whole way through, and even as the night winds down and exhaustion settles in, the smile doesn’t fade.

**

The rest of the year feels like it flies by, after that. The routine of work, college, Gemma-time, and coordinating friends and family continues, and before she knows it, December is rolling in.

She finishes up her first term back studying a few days before Gem’s first birthday, and they celebrate with a small get together in the park on a nice and sunny Saturday. It’s a mix of her usual group of friends — although Wick has officially been brought into the group and Wells has stated dating the cute brunette from Raven’s party, a sweet girl called Mel — along with Abby and Marcus. As expected, Gem gets spoiled rotten, Clarke helping her open gifts that reveal toys and clothes and books, all the usuals. She gets to show off the new additions of “hi” and “bye” into her vocabulary, how she’s mastered the single “mama”, and her ability to walk a few steps before toppling over, which Clarke will admit is a pretty great achievement.

It’s a nice afternoon, everyone enjoying the sun and the food, Gem revelling in all the attention directed towards her, and the photo Clarke snaps of her in a party hat and with cake smeared all over her face is definitely one for the fridge. It’s not until they’re back at home and Clarke’s putting the little girl to sleep that she lets herself think of Bellamy, of everything he’s missing. It’s a small ache in her chest, one that ebbs and flows, but unsurprisingly it surges now, when it’s just the two of them at the end of Gemma’s first birthday, the little girl settled in her arm as Clarke rocks her to sleep.

She still thinks about him, although it’s not every day anymore, and most of it is in relation to Gemma; absent wondering of whether a sprinkle of freckles will dot her cheeks in a few years’ time, just like he has, or wishing he was with her for middle-of-the-night wake ups, to soothe Gemma’s cries.

But some of it isn’t, she’ll admit. Some of it’s with the memories of the time they had with each other, back to the bits and pieces he told her about himself, back to the outings they went on together. Back to his laugh and his smile and the way he kissed her by the end of it all, long and deep and with a world of emotion poured into it. And some of it’s with an indulgence that’s probably not very healthy, endless fantasies of  _what if_ that would place him in their lives right now. What if he came back, what if he never left, what if she suddenly found him again one day.

It’s his birthday in four days, and she wonders how he’s going to celebrate. What his plans are for Christmas and the new year. Whether he’s doing well, whether he’s happy.

Whether he’ll ever know he has a daughter.

Gemma makes a soft, sleepy sound, breaking Clarke from her thoughts, and she smiles, feeling happy and wistful and proud, all in one.

Her baby is one.

**

She and Gemma make it to the group’s Christmas dinner this year.

Harper and Monroe announce their engagement, and everyone celebrates accordingly.

On Christmas itself, they’re at home with Abby and Marcus, spending the day similarly to the year before. Good food, good music, good presents. Marcus spins Gemma around the living room as Christmas carols play, Abby sings along as she hands out gifts, and Clarke laughs when she opens one to a tiny tee stating  _I love my grandpa._

Marcus puts it on Gem straight away, insisting it was Santa who bought the present with such a straight face Clarke can't help but grin,  and when Abby insists on taking a photo, they all line up in front of the Christmas tree and try to work out the timer function on her new camera. It takes at least five minutes, and in every shot they take, one of them is laughing.

It’s a really fantastic Christmas.

**

“I think you should enrol her in a class ASAP.”

Clarke laughs, shooting Raven a grin before her eyes settle back on Gemma, barefoot in the sand and smiling widely as she wiggles in place to the music Raven’s playing from her phone. It’s a new addition to her repertoire of dance moves, which mostly involves bopping up and down, waving her arms around wildly, stepping in place, and squealing very loudly. She’s very excited to be showing it off at the little picnic they’re having on the beach, and she’s not wrong to be — she looks absolutely hilarious, and neither Clarke nor Raven can stop laughing as they watch the little girl go.

“I’m serious,” Raven insists, chuckling as Gemma kicks at the loose sand and giggles excitedly when it goes flying. “She’s got some serious moves, that one.”

“Oh yeah, she’s just wildly talented. Practically a prodigy, at this point. Aren’t you, button?”

“Mama!”

“That means yes,” Clarke says, earning a laugh from Raven. “I’ve learnt that ‘Mama’ means most words in the English language.”

“Yeah, sounds about right. I’m sure sometimes you think she’s trying to get your attention, but she’s really just trying to have a discussion about Pythagoras's theorem.”

“Oh, I tell her about Pythagoras's theorem all the time, don’t worry.”

“Well then, between you, me, and Mont, I think she’s set for being a super nerd. I know he already talks to her about chemical engineering, and she knows all about aerospace engineering from me. Everyone else really needs to start chipping in.”

Clarke laughs, knocking her shoulder against Raven’s. She’s pretty certain that her friend really does talk shop to Gem.

“Yeah, they need to step up their game,” Clarke says, smiling when Gemma toddles back over to the picnic rug, right onto her lap. “What’s up, button? Are you hungry?” A shake of the head. “Okay, do you want something to drink?” Gem contemplates, then nods. “Alright, baby girl.”

She pulls out a sippy cup and fills it with some water, handing it over to Gem after she wriggles out of Clarke’s lap and onto the rug between her and Raven.

“It will be interesting, seeing what kind of stuff she ends up being interest in,” she comments, running a hand over Gem's light curls. She doesn’t have much hair yet, but it is growing, and surprisingly, it’s blonde. Clarke had assumed she’d take after Bellamy in this way too, but apparently it’s the recessive genes that have come through with her hair. “Convenient if it’s similar stuff to me.”

“I think between all of us, we’ve got a pretty solid range of knowledge,” Raven says.

Clarke smiles, a little rueful. “Not so much with humanities, though. That would’ve been Bellamy’s field of expertise.”

“Yeah?” Raven asks, careful.

Clarke clears her throat, nodding. “Yeah. One of his majors in his undergrad was history, and he had planned on continuing it into a masters program before his mum died. I remember him telling me all these different stories when he was here, about fallen empires and different ancient mythologies, all of that kind of stuff. He was really passionate about it.” She smiles, blinks back the slight sting to her eyes. “Enough of a nerd that he called his sister Octavia when he was six. After Emperor Augustus’s sister. Sometimes I wonder whether I should’ve called Gem something in line with that. Persephone or Hera, or something like that.”

Raven chuckles, finding Clarke’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m sure the name Gemma is somehow relevant to mythology, babe. And I’m sure there are people out there called Persephone or Hera, but I can’t imagine Gem being one of them. Her name is just  _her._ ”

“Yeah, it is,” Clarke agrees, smiling as she looks at the little girl between them, slowly sipping on her water, getting distracted by wiggling her toes and fingers in the sand. “I can’t imagine her as anything else, either.” She takes a slow breath, letting the tension that quickly crept up in her shoulders release. “Anyway, here’s hoping she doesn’t develop a crazy interest in humanities.”

Raven laughs, offering Clarke a small smile. “We’ll sway her to science, don’t worry. And all the other stuff, babe? We’ll figure it out.”

Clarke doesn’t even ask, because she knows what Raven’s talking about. Her friend knows her well, always manages to sense when Clarke is going down the rabbit hole of explaining Bellamy’s absence to Gemma when she’s older. It’s not something she likes to talk about often, but the anxiety probably shows easily, especially when she’s talking about Bellamy explicitly.

“Yeah,” she says. “We will. Thanks, Rave.”

“Anytime.”

The sit together for a few more minutes, relaxing on the beach and looking out into the ocean, before Gem gets restless and wants to start moving again. She entertains them with her dancing for another half hour, has them both cracking up in less than a minute, and the afternoon is topped off with a nice, little note when Clarke's indulgent google search finds that Gemma is the name of the brightest star in the Corona Borealis constellation.

It may be small, but it makes Bellamy feel a little closer to Gem, and that’s still something.

**

Harper and Monroe get married at the end of June, in a small ceremony at the park on a warm and sunny Saturday.

It’s a gorgeous afternoon, between the vows and the speeches and the dancing, most guests getting at least a little tipsy off of champagne, and the new wives spend most of it hand-in-hand, matching grins lighting up both of their faces. It’s enough to make everyone a little teary and a lot sappy, and Clarke happily teases Wells as he gets misty-eyed during as they watch the couple dance together.

“Shut up,” Wells grumbles, elbowing Clarke in the side when she just laughs harder. “Stop making fun of me, it’s a bad example to set to your daughter.”

Clarke pointedly looks around before taking a long sip of her drink, eyeing her friend with amusement. “Yeah, those little guilt trips don’t work when said daughter isn’t around.”

Gem had been at the ceremony, thankfully making it through without any interruptive tantrums, and even managing a little of the reception, but Abby took her home for the evening about an hour ago. It was nice to spend such a happy afternoon with her, but with the way everyone is drinking now, it’s probably good she left when she did. And as a bonus, it means Wells’ tactics won’t work.

“It sets a precedent of behaviour,” he insists. “Besides, don’t act like this isn’t getting to you. We grew up together, I know that beneath all your tough exterior, you have a marshmallow centre. Inside you’re probably sobbing.”

Clarke chuckles, shooting Wells a smile. “Mum did give me a few tissues in case I needed them when she came by,” she admits, rolling her eyes fondly when Wells grins smugly. “But, you know, she also hinted at me hooking up with someone tonight, so I don’t think she can be trusted.”

“Shit, really?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, chuckling quietly. “The other day I mentioned that it’s been, you know, three-four years since I’ve been in a serious relationship, and I think she got all quietly stressed and worried. Like I’m giving up or something. Which is ridiculous, because I’m only twenty three, and way too busy for a relationship at the moment, anyway. But she’s been pointing out people she thinks look nice to me this past week, and when she came to pick up Gem she not-so-subtly hinted at Harper’s cousin. It’s been funny, mostly.”

Wells laughs, shaking his head. “Jesus. I can’t believe out of everyone, it was Abby who said something.”

“You make it sound like you’ve all been planning some kind of intervention.”

“Nothing like  _that,_ ” Wells says, mouth pulling into a teasing smirk. “Honestly, it’s just Rave and I hoping you know you can have some  _fun,_  when the opportunity arises. I know how busy you are, but, you know, you’ve got a free night off tonight. If you want to flirt with someone, or hook up with someone, you should.”

Clarke frowns, eyes narrowing as she looks at her friend. “I feel like this is a trap, but you just sound supportive.”

“That’s why Raven and I decided I’d be the best one to bring it up.”

Clarke laughs, knocking her shoulder against Wells’ as she contemplates his words. If she’s being honest, that kind of stuff just hasn’t been on her mind at all recently. Relationships, sex, even orgasms to let off a little steam. It hasn’t been an active decision, but it’s just —  _happened,_  over the last few months, she guesses. With how busy her life feels every day, between work and school and Gemma, it hasn’t even made the cut of things to  _think_  about, let alone attempt to pursue.

But she has kind of missed it. Not just getting laid, because that’s a whole other level of contemplation that she’s not letting herself get into now, but  _flirting._  Chatting to someone cute, letting them pull her close after they ask for a dance, the look in their eyes when she know they want to kiss her. That giddiness or excitement or lust; even just the feeling of being wanted.

She does miss it a little.

“I’ll think about it,” she tells Wells, and it says a lot of him as a person that his smile doesn’t even grow smug, that it’s just that same supportive one she’s seen numerous times before.

“Yeah, you do that,” he says, and then he’s whisking her away for a dance.

Two hours later, she finds herself making out with that cute cousin of Harper’s, letting him press her up against the wall in a dark corner as his tongue sweeps into her mouth. His name is Daniel, and he really is cute, firm and charming and a  _great_  kisser, and Clarke lets herself have a little fun for an hour or so, lets herself enjoy something she hasn’t done for over two years now.

Still, it doesn’t lead anywhere. Daniel invites her over to his place, and while there’s an inkling inside of her that wishes she could just say  _yes,_ wishes she could just leave with this cute boy and enjoy a one night stand like most other people her age would, she knows she can’t. Instead, she makes the round of goodbyes to her friends, offers one last congratulations to the newlyweds, and gets an uber home to find her little girl, thankfully, sound asleep in her cot.

Tipsy and exhausted, it’s an effort to make herself change into pyjamas, brush her teeth and wipe off her make up, but soon enough Clarke is slipping into bed with a giddy little smile on her face. It won’t be happening again any time soon, but it was nice to get to act like a twenty three year for a night.

Tomorrow it’ll be back to the daily grind, but for now, she falls to sleep with a faint grin.

**

The second half of the year kicks off with the news that Gemma is  _finally_  off the waiting list for childcare, and will have a spot by the time Clarke’s back at uni. And while it’s absolutely absurd that her life now involves things like waiting lists for a literal  _baby,_  it’s enough of a relief that she doesn’t mind.

The daycare centre is a nice one, conveniently rolling into a preschool and elementary school located on the same campus, and in addition, financially, it actually works out cheaper than a nanny. It’s disappointing having to say goodbye to Fox, but thankfully the girl understands, and before Clarke really knows it, she’s dropping Gemma off for her first proper day at the centre.

It’s the beginning of a slightly different routine. Classes take up one full day of her week, and she has an on-going half-day placement at a local high school that’s part of the program, too, but the other three days Gem’s being taken care of mean Clarke’s able to work a little more than she was beforehand, save a little more money, too. It’s a juggle, fitting everything in, but she’s got Abby and Marcus at home, and a small army of friends ready to help whenever she needs, too; she knows how lucky she is.

With the end of the year approaching, holiday season quickly comes in in full swing. While the year before Clarke stayed in with Gem on the night itself to hand out candy, this year they’re going to be trick-or-treating themselves. It’s only around the block, because Gem isn’t even two yet, and thus can’t really appreciate the excitement of Halloween, but it’s still fun to get out of the house and see all the other parents and kids walking around in their costumes. Clarke herself is dressed as an angel, and Gemma has an adorable Jack-O-Lantern pumpkin costume on, while Abby and Marcus have gone the vikings couple route. They manage a decent haul before they head back home to give out sweets to the rest of the trick-or-treaters, and Raven even swings around in a pirate costume after work, too, probably just to get Gemma cuddles.

Still, it doesn’t stop her from helping them hand out candy, and when one of the women supervising a small group of kids who politely take their treats one at a time comments on them being “a lovely couple”, it makes Clarke think.

“Are you kind of like a second mum to Gem?”

Raven shrugs, ripping open her fifth Snickers, because apparently Wick didn’t buy her any even though she requested them  _specifically._  (Clarke had to listen to the rant for ten whole minutes). “Probably,” she says easily. “I mean, without putting in all the hard work and long hours. I see you, what? Three times a week, usually. That’s more than anyone else our age that sees her. I could totally be her second mum.”

Clarke snorts, rolling her eyes as Raven shoots her a grin and pointedly gets up to get a photo with Gemma as she dances around the living room.

“You’re not slowly going to poison me to get custody, are you?”

“No promises,” Raven sing-songs, gathering Gem up in her arms and swiping the camera app open. “Say cheese!”

**

Her second birthday, Gemma’s the life of the party. She’s running around, giggling when anyone catches her, demands that people dance with her and push her on the swings, and generally just basks in the attention the day brings. Clarke has to chastise Jasper for trying to sneak Gem a second piece of cake, but other than that, the day goes happily and smoothly, and Clarke gets to confront the realisation that her baby is growing up.

Only to two years old, but still.

Christmas comes quickly after that, and this year they head back up to Chicago for a big family get-together. Thankfully, the flight isn’t too awful. Gemma does cry a little, but Clarke manages to soothe her well enough that she doesn’t get any complaints from other passengers, and Marcus is happy to walk her up and down the aisles while she and Abby run through a checklist of presents that have been bought, and who they need to go last-minute shopping for.

As a bonus, Wells makes the flight up too, and while they don’t get to hang out every day of the trip, he is there on Christmas, when Clarke has to deal with relatives she doesn’t particularly like and weird old family friends who are overly-interested in her history with Gemma’s absentee father. Still, she has Gem and Wells and Abby and Marcus, and a few cool aunts and uncles and cousins who she actually really loves, so despite some frustrations, it’s a fun and festive day. Everyone who matters loves Gem, and Clarke gets to introduce her little girl to the age-old traditions of dancing to Christmas music and watching a holiday film.

“This could’ve been our lives, you know,” Clarke murmurs lowly to Wells as Bill Nighy fucks up his lines on screen. Gemma’s already down for the night, commandeering Clarke’s aunt’s bed for the few hours before they head back to the hotel.

“Hm?”

“These kinds of holidays, I mean. But like, all the time. That was Mum and Thelonious’ plan, wasn’t it? For us to fall in love, have two-point-five kids, own a house with a white picket fence and a dog of some sort. A golden retriever, probably.”

Wells snorts, presses a sloppy kiss to Clarke’s temple. He’s definitely had a few. “They were always weirdly into getting us together,” he agrees, quiet. “The amount of times Dad gave me a weird knowing look whenever I mentioned you was very high.”

“And they never thought we knew what they were insinuating.”

Wells chuckles, putting his arm around Clarke and pulling her in to snuggle. “We were a lot sharper than they gave us credit for.”

“Exactly! We basically forced Dad to admit Santa wasn’t real with our evidence of hand-writing inconsistencies. We were very sharp as kids.”

“It’s only now that we’re adults that our intelligence has dwindled.”

“Exactly.” Clarke laughs softly, shaking her head, feeling warm and tipsy and nostalgic. “You’re a dork.”

“Takes one to know one,” Wells shoots back, exactly like he would’ve when they were doing this a decade ago. “Happy Christmas.”

“Yeah,” she says, snuggling back into his side. “Happy Christmas.”

**

In the new year, a few things happen quite quickly.

First, Abby and Marcus get engaged.

Second, Raven announces that she’s moving out of the apartment, and Miller’s going to move in with Monty.

Third, Clarke makes the decision to get a place of her own.

It’s something she’s been thinking about for a few months, mulling the idea over in her mind, researching neighbourhoods, calculating figures, the usual. And if it weren’t for the various announcements, it’s probably something she would’ve kept in mind for the future.

But living with her mum and Marcus was never meant to be a permanent arrangement, and it feels like it could be the right time to find somewhere for just herself and Gem. Which is a scary thought, all on its own. Until recently, it didn’t feel realistic to move out with Gemma, not with everything she was juggling. But she’s no longer a new mum with a tiny baby, sleep deprived and trying to learn all there is about breast feeding and changing diapers and implementing sleep schedules, relying on her family’s help daily. She’s still leaning, of course, and there’s no denying that raising Gemma at two is still constant work, but she doesn’t depend on her mum or Marcus like she used to. She doesn’t have to.

And with her teaching program finishing in March, and a full time job hopefully starting soon after that, it does feel like she’ll be in a stable enough position to do it soon.

She talks it through with both Abby and Marcus, of course, and later Raven and Wells, but it doesn’t stop feeling like a good idea. The inheritance from her dad’s will has just been sitting in the bank, earning interest while Clarke wasn’t sure what to do with it, but this feels like a start, something good.

So she continues her research in the property market, gets what’s needed of her affairs in order, and once March comes and goes and her teaching program is officially wrapped up, starts the long and repetitive process of house hunting.

It’s a busy few months, going quickly between finishing her degree, celebrating the fact with her friends and family, picking up more shifts at work, and preparing and submitting applications for various high school biology positions for the next academic year, and going to open houses every weekend is just the cherry on top, but it isn’t  _bad._  More than anything else, it feels like things are really coming together, and as much as she loves Gemma, can’t imagine her life without her now, the unplanned pregnancy was really a curveball; it’s nice to feel like she’s going in the right direction.

The end of April, Clarke finds a nice three-bedroom house in a close by neighbourhood, and she spends the following weekends moving both what’s still at Monty — and now Miller’s —and what she took to her mum’s, to the new place. It’s a long and tiring process, as is furniture shopping to fill in the gaps of what she owns, but by early June, she and Gem are fully moved in. The toys already littering the lounge room floor only serve to prove it, and as she settles onto the couch with Gem after their first week fully settled in the house, Clarke can’t help but feel a little sentimental.

Three years ago, she was still reeling with the fact that she was going to be a mum, and this is where she is now.

“Mummy play?” Gemma asks, climbing back onto the floor and picking out her stack of blocks.

“Of course, button,” Clarke says, smiling as she settles down next to Gem and begins on a tower of her own.

There’s no doubt her life is infinite times better than it was three years ago.

**

**Clarke:**  Some time three years ago, you were on a self-inflicted sex ban and convinced me to hang out with some guy for a week  
If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have my little alien baby  
So thank you

**Raven:** You’re such a fucking sap

**Clarke:**  I may or may not be on my second glass of wine now that Gem’s in bed. It’s been a long month.

**Raven:** It has been  
You should get laid

**Clarke:**  Hate to admit that I’ve been having similar thoughts, actually  
I miss sex  
And now I’m wondering whether Bellamy was as good as I remember  
Or has my sexless existence rendered my memories corrupt

 **Raven:**  Okay but how drunk are you really?  
One, because I can’t believe you’re saying I’m right  
Two, because you just used the words “has my sexless existence rendered my memories corrupt” as an actual sentence

**Clarke:**  Shut up

**Raven:**  Would you consider online dating?  
Tinder?

**Clarke:**  I would be terrified Gemma would accidentally see a dick pic some fuck boy sent me  
I’d probably be terrified regardless, online dating sounds awful

**Raven:**  But what about a fuck boy who’s into milfs?

**Clarke:**  I hate you

**Raven:**  Nah, you love me. Interview this week?

**Clarke:**  Thursday. And another two the week after. Scary stuff.

**Raven:**  I would give you advice, but I haven’t had to interview for a job since I was 16

**Clarke:**  You and your brilliant mind, I know  
Not all of us can be recruited straight out of college to be a literal rocket scientist  
But I love you even though you’re a huge nerd

 **Raven:**  You’re a nerd too, we’ve had this discussion  
But you’re welcome about the kid  
I do like to think I’m the reason the little alien is alive

**Clarke:**  I delegate you third parent in honour  
Night Rave xxxxx

**Raven:**  Night babe, give the alien a kiss for me  


**

“Miller got the promotion!”

The announcement is met with cheers and hollers from the group, Miller rolling his eyes at a proud and grinning Monty as Jasper gets up to wrap him up in a big hug. He’s been interviewing for the job for a month now, and despite his shrugging it off like it isn’t a big deal, they all know better.

“Get off me,” he grumbles, shaking Jasper free before taking a hearty sip of his beer.

“I just want to show you I’m proud of you,” Jasper insists, settling to pat him on the arm instead.

“Yeah, let us be proud, Nathan,” Murphy says with a smirk; he’s definitely enjoying Miller’s annoyance, but his snarkiness is probably undercut by the fact that he’s bouncing Gemma up and down on his knee. “What’s the job anyway?”

Miller rolls his eyes. “Same thing, basically. Still developing and implementing security systems and programs, but I’m a project manager within the department now. I lead my own team instead of being a team member; answer to one less person and get a decent pay rise.”

“Well, we’re all proud of you, Miller,” Raven says. “Let’s hope the good employment fortune continues and Clarke gets a job, too.”

Clarke snorts, elbowing Raven in the ribs. “Yeah, here’s hoping. But no talking about that, we’re celebrating Miller now.”

“Hell yeah, we are,” Monty agrees, leaning up to give Miller a quick kiss, ever the proud boyfriend. “We’ve got beer, pita and dip, and video games. It’s gonna be a fun night.”

Clarke laughs, shaking her head with a fond smile. It really  _is_  a fun night, though, everyone happy for Miller, giddy in celebration. For all she and Gem only stay until half past seven, they both have a lot of fun, and despite having to do tedious interview prep later in the night, once Gem is fast asleep, Clarke can’t help but remain to feel happy.

And hopeful that the good employment fortune continues.

It’s what she focuses on for the following few weeks, bringing her to the end of June feeling mostly confident at her future prospects — the job interviews have gone well, and she’s quietly hopeful that she’ll get a call in the coming weeks — so it’s maybe not surprising that right when things are all coming together, her equilibrium is once again shifted.

She’s in the last hour and a half of her shift at  _Arkadia Arts_  when she gets a call from Gem’s daycare, letting her know the little girl’s come down with a fever and asking if she can be picked up early. Which is hard, when Clarke’s the only one working at the store, but thankfully she knows that Raven’s got the afternoon off.

She dials her friend after finishing the call, hoping she’s not busy and is feeling kind.

_“I’m trying to fix the AC at the new place, what’s up?”_

Clarke smiles. “How much do you love me out of ten?”

Raven groans.  _“What is it?”_

“Gem’s daycare just called, said she’s running a fever and needs to be picked up, but I’m stuck at work until five. Any chance you’re able to get her for me? I’ll drive right over to yours after work, so you’d only have to watch her for, like, two hours max, hopefully.”

_“Oh, yeah,”_  Raven says with a small laugh.  _“That’s fine babe, of course I’ll grab her.”_

She lets out a relieved breath. “Thanks Rave. Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.”

_“Clarke, it’s fine. I’m almost done, anyway, and I’ve still got your spare carseat, so no big deal. And it’d be good to see the kid, I miss her.”_

“You saw her on the weekend,” Clarke points out, smiling. “But thank you, seriously, you’re the best. I owe you about ten sexual favours.”

“Make it twenty.”

Clarke laughs. “Will do. I’ll call the daycare to let them know you’re picking her up. Text when you get there?”

“Of course. I’ll head off now. See you soon, babe.”

“See you.”

She relays the information back to the daycare, and gives herself a mental reminder to buy Raven dinner soon, for being so great. Half an hour later, she’s got a text confirming Gem’s been picked up, and another ten minutes, another from Monty, which is just slightly more alarming.

**Monty:**  Emergency meeting at mine when you’ve finished work!!!

**Clarke:**  Everything okay?

**Monty:**  I’ll explain when you’re here. I’ll be home 5.30 ish. How long will you be?

**Clarke:**  I finish at five, but need to pick Gem up from Raven’s and grab some medicine from the drugstore. Hopefully can get to yours six thirty?

**Monty:**  Can you ask Raven to bring her here instead?

**Clarke:**  Yeah, sure. But you’re kinda freaking me out, here. You sure everything’s okay?

**Monty:**  Sorry! All is fine, but just get here ASAP  
Without speeding of course

**Clarke:** Of course

She manages to get ahold of Raven before she’s driven too far, and tells her the new plans, which Raven assures her is just Monty feeling overly dramatic. It doesn’t make her feel a whole lot better, but she lets Raven go and focuses on the last half hour of her shift.

It’s quiet, only one more customer coming in, looking for a new set of pastels, and just before five, someone she’s not expecting to walk into the shop at all.

“Lincoln!” Clarke exclaims, surprised and a little taken aback. He had no idea the man was back in L.A.

“Hey, Clarke,” he greets, smile as warm as she remembers. “How are you? I didn’t realise you were still working here.”

“I’m good,” she says with a small laugh. “And yeah, six years running now. I won’t let Callie let me go. Anyway, how are you? When did you get back? Why’re you here?”

She hasn’t exactly kept up with him these past three years. They were acquaintances at best, only seeing each other in passing at work or when they both helped out with the art workshops at the community centre next door, and he never had Facebook either, so she really has no clue what he’s been up to since he left.

“It’s been a while, actually,” he says, a little sheepish. “I got back at the beginning of the year. I was meaning to drop by earlier, but the year’s just gotten away from me.”

Clarke chuckles. “I know how it can be,” she assures. “So, what’re you doing here now? Wanting to buy something? Because I’d hate to think you’ve become the customer that drops in a minute before we close.”

Lincoln laughs, shaking his head. “No, no, I’d never do that to you. Actually, I’m meant to be meeting Callie at five. I contacted her a week or so ago about starting up with the workshops next door again, she told me to come in to organise something.”

“Oh, that’s great! I guess I’ll probably see you around a bit, then.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. It’d be good to catch up.”

“Of course,” Clarke agrees. “How about we exchange numbers? I actually have to rush off right when Callie gets here, but I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to while you’re away.”

“Sounds good,” Lincoln says, taking out his phone and giving it to her. “So, where’re you heading off to after this?” He asks as she enters her number and texts herself. “Big Friday night plans?”

Clarke snorts, shaking her head as she gives his phone back. “Unfortunately, no. My friend has bombarded me with mildly alarming messages, so I’m heading over to his place to see what it’s all about. But I have to pick up some medicine for Gem, too, so I’m trying to be quick about it.”

“Gem?”

“My daughter,” she says, smiling. “Sorry, sometimes I forget people don’t know.”

“Oh, wow,” he laughs, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t realise you had a baby.”

“Yeah, it was after you left. She was a shock, but she’s incredible.”

“That’s amazing, Clarke. Congratulations.”

The door chimes before she can respond with her thanks, Callie walking in and lighting up as her eyes land on Lincoln.

“Lincoln! I forgot how big you are,” she laughs, pulling the man into a hug. “So good to see you. Hi, Clarke,” she adds with a smile. “You’re off, yes?”

“Yeah, sorry I have to run. Gem’s a little under the weather so I’m getting her some medicine and taking her off Raven’s hands. But I’ll be in on Monday.”

“Of course.”

“It was great to see you, Lincoln,” Clarke says, gathering her bag and getting ready to head off. “I’d love to stay and chat, but—”

“Gemma,” he supplies, smile kind. “Your daughter definitely takes precedent, don’t worry. I was meaning to tell you something, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we actually have a mutual friend.”

Clarke frowns in confusion. “Who?”

Lincoln chuckles. “I, ah, I met someone while I was away, another American. We’re actually engaged now,” he says, and before she can offer any congratulations, he tells her with very little fanfare: “But her name’s Octavia.” She’s not sure how her smile doesn’t falter, but somehow, she manages to keep it in place despite the shock. He continues, seemingly oblivious. “Her brother mentioned a Clarke Griffin when I told him I used to work in an art store here.”

“Bellamy?” She asks, voice coming out quiet as she swallows past the lump that forms in her throat.

Lincoln’s smile dims a little, and Clarke makes a note to clear her throat before speaking next, smile a little brighter. “Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t know whether you’d remember or not. He said you met a few years ago.”

She does clear her throat now, manages a smile and hopes that it’s genuine. “Small world,” she jokes, albeit a little weakly. “I’ll, um, I’ll keep in touch, okay?”

Lincoln nods, looking over her for a moment before he smiles again, apparently believing whatever front she’s putting up. “Yeah, sounds great, Clarke.”

She nods, manages one last smile, before turning on her heels and heading out of the shop. Her throat tightens and she feels her stomach tangle into knots.  _Fuck._   _Holy bloody fuck._  She feels tears begin to sting the backs of her eyes, but blinks them back, reminding herself to breathe.  _In. Out. In. Out._

All she needs to do right now, is get some medicine for her daughter, and then she can meet up with her friends to freak out.

It’s not much of a plan, but it’s at least enough to get her into the car and driving to the drugstore right by her old apartment. And maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise, because this is the drugstore that seems to hold a lot of significant moments in her life: the place Raven convinced her to text Bellamy in the first place, the place she first believed she could be pregnant.

She calls Raven the moment she’s out of the car and heading into the store to find something for Gem, not letting her get even a word in after she picks up.

“Rave, I’’m seriously freaking the fuck out right now,” she whispers into the phone, running a hand through her hair as she finds the medication aisle.

“What’s wrong?” Raven asks, alarmed.

Clarke shakes her head. “I can’t even — fuck, I can’t even say it.” She takes a deep breath, finds the children’s Advil she’s looking for. “I’m just down the street grabbing some tablets for Gem, so I’ll be there in five, okay? I just — I needed to talk to someone for a moment.”

“Okay, that’s — of course, babe. We’ll see you when you get here. Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

She swallows, clearing her throat slightly. “No,” she says, honest. “But I’ll be fine for the next five minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll have some tea waiting for you when you get in.”

Before she gets a chance to respond, she hears an all-too-familiar voice, a voice that makes her chest tighten and her throat close up.

“Clarke Griffin,” she hears from behind her, that same, deep, warm voice that she remembers despite the three years that have passed.

“Shit, Rave, I’ve gotta go,” she says into her phone, quick and quiet, ending the call before she can hear her friend’s response.

It’s still a shock when she turns around, for all she knew exactly who it was from the first sound of her name. Still a shock to see him standing before her after all these years, all tan and broad like she remembers, a mop of dark curls and brown eyes that are exactly like Gemma’s.

She smiles, hopes it doesn’t waver.

“Bellamy Blake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Screams*  
> Fun fact: I was originally going to start the fic and the end of this chapter so there wasn't any context, but then my bellarke feels got in the way, and here we are, 40K words later.  
> Were you expecting that??  
> I hope you enjoyed despite lack of Bellamy. You can expect that he'll be in it from now on!  
> Thanks for all the support. Your comments make me smile so much!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today -- they will probably be around this length from now on (5K) and you can expect them to have Bellamy in them!  
> You guys are seriously amazing - all the comments make me smile so so much, so thank you!! I try to reply to all of them :)

He looks the same.

Older, of course, and different in the details, but still the same.

And she can’t help but take him all in, see what three years has done to Bellamy Blake. He’s still handsome, a fact that she definitely shouldn’t be focusing on, but one that still manages to pop up in her mind despite it’s inappropriateness. He’s got the same warm, golden skin, a complexion that her daughter has partially inherited, but there’s a scar on his forehead now too, just above his left brow. His hair is longer, the short curls she remembers now shaggier, no longer gelled in an attempt to tidy them, and she wonders ridiculously and unhelpfully how it would feel now, if she just ran her fingers through like she remembers doing in bed numerous times. And then there’s his eyes, looking so goddamn similar to her daughter’s it’s almost startling, a deep brown, warm with golden flecks, that she’s seen every day since Gemma has been born.

He’s in his work clothes, navy trousers and a fitted white shirt, rolled up to reveal his still impressive forearms, reminding her of the night she met him, tipsy and all too delighted with how good he looked dressed up like that.

It makes her heart lurch, seeing him again, makes it feel caught in her throat.

But Bellamy? He doesn’t look how she feels. Surprised, of course, but not thrown to his core like she is. Instead, he’s smiling, lips pulling into what’s almost a smirk, but not quite. His eyes are dancing with amusement but there’s something more there too, a glint of something she doesn’t want to read into.

They stare at each other for what’s maybe a few beats too long before he clears his throat, looks down for a moment and shakes his head. A more genuine smile replaces the almost-smirk, his whole face softening with it, and Clarke feels herself falter, this odd combination of something within her unwinding, and something else bubbling up.

He does seem surprised to see her, sure, but he doesn’t have the extra baggage weighing him down. He probably just sees the girl that gave him a few good fucks three years ago. Not, you know, the mother of his child.

“What’re you doing here?” She asks, voice hard and wavering only slightly, but enough to make Bellamy’s smile falter. He replaces it quickly, and if Clarke didn’t know any better she’d say he was hurt by her question.

“I actually moved here about a month ago.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, soft, startled by his words. “I didn’t realise. Obviously.”

A few beats of silence pass, the space between them quickly becoming thick with tension, before Bellamy speaks again.

“Sorry, I, uh— should I not’ve come said hi?”

“No!” Clarke says, a little too loudly. “I mean, sorry — no, you should’ve. I’m just — it’s just a shock, is all.”

He chuckles, nodding his head a little. “I know. It’s a shock for me too. How long has it even been?”

“Three years,” she supplies quickly, mentally berating herself when his smile becomes amused, sly. Maybe he thinks she’s been pining, counting the days since he left; it’s probably more plausible than knowing that this time three years ago, she was three months pregnant. “I tried calling you,” she offers after a moment.

His brows shoot up, clearly surprised over the confession. “What?”

She clears her throat, lets herself take a quiet breath, trying to settle the queasiness swirling around in her stomach. She doesn’t even know where she’s going with this; she can’t exactly tell him here, or now. She needs a plan for how to deal with this, but she also needs to know. It’s eaten away at her for the past three years, wondering where the hell he’s been, why she wasn’t able to contact him, and he’s finally here to answer the question.

“I, uh — I tired calling you a month or so after you left, but I, um — I couldn’t get through.”

“Oh. Shit, really?” He runs a hand through his hair, giving her a slightly sheepish smile. “My phone was stolen once I got back home. I had to cancel everything with it, and I would’ve texted, but — I didn’t have your number, or anything.”

“Oh,” she says, letting the words settle in her mind, the most pathetically normal reason she wouldn’t be able to contact him.

His phone was stolen, and because of that, her daughter doesn’t have a dad.

It doesn’t seem fair, and part of her? Part of her wants to be angry at him for it, for not having a better excuse. And it is there, but it’s only a small ache in here body, completely smothered by everything else: shock and relief, worry and hope. Because this is what she always wanted, isn’t it? This means that Gemma has a chance to meet — to meet her dad.

But that involves telling her dad, and that’s not something she’s ready to do, especially not standing in the middle of a drugstore.

It takes her a moment to realise that lost in her own head, Bellamy’s begun studying her, eyes roaming over her face, perhaps trying to figure our why this interaction is so strained, not at all the easiness they used to have with each other. And it gives her a moment to take him in again, too, how deep his eyes have just become, the crease between his brows that’s now formed, the way he's looking at her; altogether almost _sad._

Like he’s upset that she couldn’t contact him; like he could’ve been as affected by her as she was by him. In different ways, of course, but maybe in some of the same ways too. Which feels ridiculous, when the differences are so big, and important, and definitely what she needs to be thinking about right now.

She shakes herself out of the slight trance, mind once again focussed on what’s important — Gemma, and what this revelation means for her — and she’s just contemplating saying something to Bellamy, maybe even asking him to come talk to her seriously, when a gorgeous woman comes walking up to them both.

She’s tall and tan, dark eyes and dark hair, gorgeous in an effortless way that reminds Clarke of Raven. She thinks it could be Octavia, but that thought is quickly diminished when she stops behind Bellamy, props her head on his shoulder and hands him a box Clarke quickly recognises as condoms.

“Found ‘em, babe,” she says, and Clarke feels everything inside of her drain. She’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she’s holding a box of Advil in her own hands; one that’s clearly marked _Children: 2-5 years._

Bellamy tenses slightly, offers Clarke a tentative smile before turning to the girl. “Thanks, Echo.”

Echo, apparently, moves to Bellamy’s side and fits herself under under his arm, and seems to finally notice Clarke. Perking up, she sends a meaningful look to who Clarke assumes to be her boyfriend.

Bellamy gets the hint quickly, clears his throat. “Echo, this is Clarke. She’s an, um — an old friend of mind.” Clarke offers the woman a tight smile, hopes it doesn’t look as fake as it feels. “We just bumped into each other.”

If she notices any weird, lingering tension, she doesn’t let it show, simply returns Clarke’s smile. “Hey, I’m Echo,” she says, offering a hand. “As he said.”

“Clarke,” she says, taking Echo’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Echo nods, before glancing back to Bellamy, but he’s still looking at Clarke, like he wants to say more, maybe explain. And Clarke wants to say more too, but she can’t, not now. It’s been three years, and thirty seconds ago, he was looking at her in a way that made her heart clench, and now she’s finding out he has a girlfriend. She has no right to be upset about it, but it still stings.

“Look, I have to go,” she says after a moment. It’s abrupt, but not untrue. She has a daughter to get to, a _sick_ daughter. “We should — we should catch up, Bellamy.” The phrase sounds ridiculous to her own ears: _catch up._ Like they actually _are_ old friends, instead of — whatever they are. But she doesn’t want to be in this conversation any longer, so she just soldiers on. “I actually ran into Lincoln earlier, so, I’ll, um — I’ll get your number off him, okay?” She continues before Bellamy can even open his mouth. “Anyway, good to — it was good to see you. Bye.”

And then she turns on her heels, leaving the man she’s hoped she’d see again for the past three years behind.

She’s quick to pay for the tablets, and some chocolate for herself, and when she makes for the exit, she can’t help one last glance over her shoulder. Bellamy’s still looking at her, an expression somewhere between confusion and amusement, which is probably fair when she basically just ran away from him, and she lets herself look back for a lingering moment.

But after one last small smile, and with her heart doing what feels like skipping a beat, she turns and leaves, heading for her car.

It only takes a few minutes to drive to Monty and Miller’s, and she sees that Raven’s car is already there, too. Which is good, because she feels like she’s going to burst the moment she gets inside. Or possibly break, she’s not sure yet.

But she doesn’t let herself do either, not when her daughter is sick.

“Hey,” she says, after letting herself into the apartment. Monty, Miller and Raven are all sitting in the lounge room, and they each look up with matching expressions of worry, making Clarke falter slightly. Maybe something about her just screams _I just saw the father of my child for the first time in years._ And she wants to ask what’s going on, wants to scream, wants to take the bottle of wine that’s most likely in the fridge and pour herself a large glass, but first and foremost, she’s a mother. “Where’s Gem?” She asks.

“Down for a nap,” Raven tells her, nodding in the direction. “I think the fever has burned her out; she was out like a light as soon as she was in the car.”

Clarke nods and heads into her old bedroom, finding her baby girl sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed, her favourite toy nestled into her side. It’s a soft red octopus, something Abby bought her when they went to the aquarium last year, and Gem loves it. Clarke smiles, runs her fingers through her wispy blonde hair. No matter what’s going on, Gemma always manages to settle her. Leaning down, she presses a kiss on her forehead. She is warm to the touch, but Clarke would rather her get some rest than wake her up to take some tablets.

“I love you, button,” she says, soft so the little girl won’t wake up

And Clarke knows, that despite everything that’s going on in her own head — and heart — she needs to do what’s best for her baby.

Now she just needs to figure out what that is.

She heads back into the lounge room, smiling her thanks when Raven hands her a cup of tea when she settles down next to her. Her friend’s are still eyeing her worriedly, expression that don’t really fit into the context of her abruptly hanging up on Raven, and Clarke suddenly remembers why she’s even here in the first place: Monty’s texts.

But that’ll have to wait; she’s got much more important things to discuss.

Apparently Monty thinks so too, because before she has a chance to say anything he speaks up.

“Clarke, we need to talk to you,” he says, serious in a way he rarely is. It makes a wave of anxiety wash through her, but still, she shakes her head.

“No, I need to talk to you first.”

Monty, Miller ad Raven share a look before Raven places a hand on Clarke’s arm, careful. “Clarke, you really need to hear this.”

It makes her laugh, humourless, because the last thing she wants to do right now is have a fight about whose news is more important; not when she’s easily the winner, not when her news is that Bellamy is back.

Instead of the continuing the back and forth, she decides to just get it out. Maybe once she says it out loud it will sound more real.

“I ran into Bellamy at the drugstore.”

“Bellamy is living in L.A.,” Raven says at the same time.

They both stare at each other for a moment, Clarke’s mind reeling with Raven’s words, before she manages to choke out a “What?” How the hell do they know about Bellamy? She looks to the two boys, expressions as shocked as Raven’s. “Someone explain, please.”

Miller looks to Monty, and after a subtle nod, trains his focus back on Clarke. “You know that promotion I got?” Clarke nods. “Well, I had to bring in a consultant to work out some marketing issues within the department, and — it ended up being the company Bellamy works for. We had a meeting this afternoon, met with some people we’d be working with. One of them introduced themselves as Bellamy Blake.”

Clarke lets out a breath, nods. “And you knew it was him?”

Miller chuckles, sending Clarke a wry smile. She returns a more helpless one back. “I don’t think there are may Bellamy Blake’s around; it’s a pretty unique name. And — he has Gem’s eyes, just like you said. It wasn’t hard to figure out. I did get a photo and send it to Monty, just to be sure, but I was pretty certain.”

Clarke laughs a little now, shaking her head. “You took a photo of him?” She asks, letting a smile grow. “I think you might be taking the fact that you work in security a little too seriously. Trying to be a spy now?”

“Hey, I’d make an excellent spy, if I wanted to,” Miller shoots back. Clarke snorts, and his smile softens. “But Monty confirmed what I thought, and that’s when he texted you to come over.”

“Obviously we expected to be the ones to break the news,” Monty adds.

“Obviously,” Clarke agrees, running a hand over her face. She’s probably still in shock.

“Wanna tell us what happened?” Raven prompts, after a long moment of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But first.” She gets off the couch and heads to the kitchen, looking through the fridge to find the bottle of wine she suspected would be in there. With the cookie dough ice cream also in the freezer, it’s like her friends were preparing for some sort of emotional breakdown. She carries it back to her friends, along with a spoon and some wine glasses, and is met with various expressions of amusement. “Trust me when I say I need this.”

She hands out the glasses and pours herself one before taking a long sip. It feels a little like she’s gearing up to share some gossip, if she’s being honest, like they’re back in the dorms dishing about who’s sleeping with, not explaining how she knows the father of her child is back in L.A.

But she is, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself for the story.

“This guy who used to work with me, he came into work today. His name’s Lincoln, and he was accepted into this art program overseas about the same time Bellamy was first here. Anyway, he was a nice guy, but I haven’t really seen or heard from him since he left.” She takes the lid off the ice cream tub and takes a hearty bite. “But he came in today,” she continues, “something to do with volunteering with the community centre. And we got talking.

“And he tells me that he met someone while he was away, that we’ve got a mutual friend. And it’s all — I was confused, right? Just the way he phrased it all. But then he says he’s engaged to an Octavia, and it all — well, it all fell into place.” She takes another sip of wine, letting the information settle with her friends. The name isn’t lost on them. “So I ask him if he meant Bellamy, and once Lincoln confirmed I just — I don’t even remember what I said, if I’m being honest. I had already exchanged numbers with Lincoln, so I knew I’d be able to contact him when I needed to, but at that moment I just wanted to get out of there. I think I said something that passed for small talk, but I left pretty quickly.

“And then. Fuck. I, um — I go to the drugstore to pick some tablets up for Gem, and — and that’s when I called Rave, freaking out. I just — it was a lot of information to process, and I didn’t really know how to handle it.” She lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “So imagine my surprise when I’m picking up children’s Advil and someone says my name. And — fuck, it’s _Bellamy._ ” She takes another breath, feels it rattle in her chest. “It was Bellamy.”

Clarke feels Raven take her hand, and she squeezes it in thanks when she gives her a kind smile.

After clearing her throat, she continues. “Anyway, then what was possibly the most awkward two minutes of my life follows, just — a lot of tension, which I’m assuming he thinks was sexual tension, not you’re-the-father-of-my-child tension. And, um — I told him that I tried calling him. And get this: you wanna know the reason his phone was disconnected? Because it was stolen.” She wipes her eyes when she feels them sting with tears. “His phone was stolen,” she says again, soft. “And there was — something about it all, I don’t know. The way he was looking at me, it made think I might have a shot at making all of this right. And that’s when this bloody model-looking woman comes over and hands him a box of condoms.

“After that I figured it was as good a time as any to cut and run, so I made some excuse and I left.” She finishes off her glass of wine, shaking her head slightly. “And that’s the story of how my life became a mess in less than one hour.”

“Did you tell Lincoln about Gem?” Raven asks after a moment of processing.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Did you say how old she was?”

She catches onto what Raven’s hinting at, thinks back to the conversation she had with the man. “No. All I said was that she was a shock, but nothing about timing.”

“Okay good. That’s good. It leaves us with more time to come up with a plan.”

“I’m open to any suggestions,” Clarke sighs.

“Do you want him to be part of Gemma’s life?” Miller asks after a beat, brows furrowed in thought.

“It’s not really my right to decide that, is it?”

“It’s your right more than his,” Raven says. “You’re the one that’s been with her for the past three years.”

“Not by any fault of his own,” Clarke points out.

“Okay, but you’re avoiding the question. Do you want him to be part of her life?”

“Yes,” Clarke says, quick and certain. She’s never had any doubt about that. “She deserves to know him, and he deserves to have that chance, too. I just — after today’s encounter, I’m wondering whether he’s the same Bellamy I met three years ago. The one that didn’t commit. I want him to be a part of her life, but not if he’s just going to bounce one day.”

“So you should meet up with him,” Monty suggests.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, meet up with him. See what he’s like these days. You’re allowed to do that before you introduce him to Gem.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” Clarke says, nodding. “I mean, terrifying, but probably the appropriate first step.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Raven says, encouraging.

“Yeah. He’s still hot,” she adds after a moment.

Raven laughs. “What was that?”

Clarke sighs, runs a hand over her face before she pouts. It feels as pathetic as it probably looks. “I said he’s still hot. Which is stupidly unfair. His face is the last thing I need to be thinking about, but — _God._ I haven’t had sex with anyone since him, and I remember how good his stupid face is at a lot of things. It’s distracting.”

“I told you you need to get laid.”

“Yeah, yeah, and now I’m paying for it. You win.”

Raven laughs, throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling Clarke in for a hug. “You’ll work it out, babe.”

“I always do?”

“You always do.”

They continue talking for the next hour or so, both Clarke and Miller recounting details of their various exchanges, and then coming up with a short-term plan, which basically involves waiting for the shock to subside before trying to contact either Lincoln or Bellamy.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to get her through the rest of the evening. Once Gem wakes up, Clarke gathers her in her arms and heads out of the apartment, incredibly grateful for her friends and with the promise to look after herself. She manages to get Gem to eat some dinner, and gives her some tablets for the fever too, but the little girl crashes pretty quickly after that, leaving Clarke time to gather her thoughts.

She finds herself pulling out a sketching pad and some pencils, and unsurprisingly, it’s Bellamy’s face that she begins the draw. But not in the same ways she has before; this time, it’s an attempt to capture that expression. That look he gave her when she told him she tried to contact him. The one that still has her squirming, just thinking about it.

It’s all a lot to process, but sketching helps, like it usually does; helps her unpack how she’s feeling, at least.

Hope takes up a lot of it. Because this _is_ what she’s wanted for the past three years, Bellamy in his daughter’s life, Gemma to know her father, and despite how difficult she knows it will be, something good still swells in her chest, still makes her feel like this could work. But with that, she can’t deny there’s fear, too; these are very high stakes, and she’s not sure she could handle it if it went bad. If there was a chance Bellamy didn’t want to be a part of Gemma’s life, or worse, if he said he did, but backed out once Gemma got to know him.

And it feels unfair, because she still feels like she knew Bellamy, the kind of person he was, but it’s been three years, and they only spent a couple of weeks together. She wants to be able to trust him, but Gemma’s too important not to be cautious.

And then, through all of that, she’s angry. The irrational part of her — the one that doesn’t want to think about how this isn’t Bellamy’s fault in any way — is angry. Because she’s been thinking about him for three years now, has wondered where he’s been, and what he’s been doing, and now he rocks back up into her life completely oblivious to the fact, thinking she’s someone he simply fooled around with a few years ago. It doesn’t feel fair, not the way he looked at her, not the fact that he has a girlfriend, not how he much he’s already changed everything; it’s irrational, she knows, but it still doesn’t feel fair.

Not when she remembers how it was, at the end. It wasn’t love, not after two weeks, but she can’t help but feel it could’ve been. And that’s a scary enough thought in and of itself, not even taking Gemma into account; one that she came to terms with before she even realised she was pregnant. But having a baby to a man she could’ve loved makes it hard to let him go.

Now though, she can’t think about that. Gemma’s the most important person here, and Clarke’s own feelings have to come second to whatever’s best for her.

With that final thought, and with the day’s emotional weight finally catching up to her, she decides it’s time to call it a night.

After a quick bowl of pasta and checking on Gemma to find the girl sleeping soundly in her cot, Clarke gets herself ready for bed, feeling all of a sudden incredibly exhausted from the day. There’s a lot she’ll need to think about in the coming days and weeks, a lot to arrange and plan out, but for now, she wants to sleep.

So of course, that’s when she gets a text from an unknown number.

**Unknown:** Hey Clarke, didn’t know whether you’d ask Lincoln for my number, but I wanted to see about catching up, if you’re up for it  
We could grab a drink when you’re free  
If you want, of course  
No pressure  
This is Bellamy, by the way. If that wasn’t already clear.

And okay, her plans for not texting Lincoln, and especially not texting Lincoln for Bellamy’s number to then text Bellamy  _himself_ — they didn’t really take into consideration either of them texting her first. She still needs to cool down from everything, but this is what she was planning on doing eventually. Catching up, seeing what Bellamy’s like now, how he’d fit into Gemma’s life.

She runs through her schedule, knows that she’s only working a half-day on Monday, and that Marcus has the day off then, too. He’s always happy to have Gemma, so if she’s still sick and can’t go to into daycare, he’ll probably be able to look after her for a couple of hours.

**Clarke:** I have work until 1 on Monday. Lunch/coffee around 2?

**Bellamy:** I’ll be at work, so would have to meet during my lunch break  
Unless you want to do dinner?

**Clarke:** Lunch is fine. Text me address of the cafe you choose.  
See you then

**Bellamy:** Sounds good, Clarke. I’ll see you then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Hope you enjoyed.  
> Enjoy a bit of a dose of bellarke feels???  
> Thanks for reading!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys keep doing this thing where u comment so many lovely things I just wanna keep writing. It's entirely unhelpful when it comes to my exam studies. *Sighs* oh well.  
> But seriously- thanks for all the support!! It makes it so much better to share the story :) :) :)  
> Chapter a smidgen longer than the last: 6.5K words.  
> I have a flare for dramatics and have left you with a cliff hanger once or twice. You guys complain about it a lot which always makes me smile ;) So just a warning. Cliff hanger ahead. Sorry (not sorry)!!!  
> As always, thanks for reading!!

“You excited to see Grandpa, baby?” Clarke asks, trying to get her sulking, squirming daughter excited as she buckles her into the car seat.

“No!” 

“But you love seeing Grandpa, Gem!” She encourages, only to be met with Gemma shaking her head, blonde curls flying and lips pouting in a way that’s just so Clarke it’s almost funny. “Gem,” she sighs, catching her daughter’s hands and stopping them from moving around so wildly. “Come on, button. Will you please let me buckle you in?”

“I don’t wanna!”

“Alright,” Clarke says, rocking back as she feigns contemplation. “I guess you’re just gonna have to come to work with me, then. No dance party, or playing outside, just watching Mummy do her work.”

Gemma’s face draws into one of consideration, brows furrowed and lips pouting, before it relaxes and she stops wriggling. Clarke’s able to click her into place before kissing her on the forehead.

“Thank you, button. I promise you’ll have a great time with Grandpa.”

She hops into the driver’s seat and starts the fifteen minute drive to her mum and Marcus’ place, Gemma thankfully calming down a little along the way. It’s been a hard couple of days, Gem’s mood shifting into tantrums and restless nights after Friday afternoon, once the blocked nose and cough came. It’s just a simple cold, but it’s enough that she’s been moody and a lot more difficult than usual. Thankfully, at least, Marcus is free for some babysitting today, and Gem’s looking a lot better, so she won’t have to cancel work, or on lunch with Bellamy.

Which is a whole other thing that she’s been trying not to freak out about. At least Gemma being sick has pulled a lot of her attention these past few days.

They reach the house soon enough, and Marcus lets them both in with a happy grin.

“Hey, Clarke,” he says, giving her a quick hug before picking up Gemma, to her insistent urging. “And hello to you, little duck. How are you?”

“M good,” Gem says. “Mummy says we play dance party.”

“I did,” Clarke says, shooting Marcus a slightly apologetic look, one he returns with a chuckle. He’ll be listening to a lot of Disney today. “And I hate to leave on that note, but it took a little longer getting Gem here than I was expecting, so I better get to work.”

“It’s fine,” Marcus assures, taking Gemma’s bag from Clarke’s shoulder with a kind smile. “I’ve been excited to spend the day with her. Even though I hear she’s been a bit under the weather.”

“She’s better today, but yeah. You’ve been a bit sick, haven’t you, button?” Clarke pushes Gem’s hair from her forehead, giving her daughter a smile before focusing back in on Marcus. “She hasn’t had anything this morning, but there’re some tablets in her bag, just in case she needs them. And she’ll probably sleep for a little longer than usual, so don’t worry about that. If she’s got Occi she should be fine, but if she’s a little restless, I’ve given her some warm milk with honey and that’s helped her settle. Just — call me, if you need anything.”

Marcus laughs, squeezes Clarke’s arm reassuringly. “We’ll be fine, Clarke. I promise to call for anything important.”

“Yeah, okay.” She smiles, moving forward to press a kiss to Gemma’s forehead. It’s nothing Marcus doesn’t know — he did live with Gem for over two years, in which there were times Gem was definitely unwell — but it hasn’t been the best weekend, and she just worries sometimes, doesn’t like leaving her daughter when she’s been sick and a little miserable. She _is_ a lot better this morning, but Clarke still feels a little bad. “Bye, button,” she says. “Be good for Grandpa, okay? I’ll call to check in on you later.”

“Mm-ka, Mummy.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for this, Marcus. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s fine, Clarke! We’ll see you later today.”

“Yeah, I should be back by four. Okay, I really need to get going.”

With one last kiss for Gem, and one more thank you to Marcus, she heads off to work, going through the usual routine of opening up the store.

It’s a slow shift, even though it’s only four hours long, but she knows that’s mostly because she’s counting down the hours until she sees Bellamy again. She hasn’t really let herself think about it too much, using Gemma as a distraction all weekend, but with the inevitability of having lunch with him drawing closer, she resigns herself to the fact that she really needs to have some sort of game plan heading into it.

Because Bellamy deserves to know about Gemma; there’s no doubt in Clarke’s mind about that. But still, today’s not the day for that, if she can help it. Today is for Clarke to get a sense of him again, to see what he’s like these days, see how three years of separation has changed him.

And with at least that rough idea in mind, she forms a mental list of things she wants to find out from him today.

First, is what Lincoln has told him, if anything. If he’s mentioned that Clarke’s had a baby, there’s no way Bellamy won’t be bringing that up, and if he does, she won’t be lying to him. Which would make the rest of the lunch pretty pointless, but that’s only if Lincoln’s said anything. If he hasn’t, there are other things she wants to know: what he’s been doing there past three years, mainly, and also who Echo is; questions that are probably more for her own personal curiosity than completely related to Gemma. And lastly, she wants to gage whether he’d be able to handle being a dad. Which doesn’t feel fair, not when he doesn’t even know that he _is,_ but still — she just needs to get a feel for him again, after all this time.

Gemma’s too important not to be cautious about him, despite how much Clarke feels like she knew Bellamy.

And with all of that in mind, she’s able to get through the rest of her shift feeling at least minimally more at ease.

By the time Callie comes in at one, though, Clarke’s stomach is back in knots, and she’s slightly worried that she might actually throw up.

**Clarke:** Leaving work now  
Come around tonight w a bottle of wine?

**Raven:** I’ll be there at 7 with Thai and booze  
Good luck, babe. Call me if you need saving

**Clarke:** You’re beautiful  
I will  
Thank you  
I might also just text u updates throughout

**Raven:** Clarke: he’s still hot wtf  
Me: Read 1:06pm

**Clarke:** Shut up  
The texts will be better than that I swear

**Raven:** Yeah yeah  
Shut up and go meet your baby daddy

Clarke snorts, Raven’s complete lack of tact actually helping her feel more settled, somehow.

The drive to the cafe is uneventful, unfortunately, and Clarke makes it there a whole fifteen minutes earlier than she’s meant to be meeting Bellamy. It’s a nice little Italian place, a block from where she knows Miller works, which makes sense, and she grabs a table near the door, just in case she needs to make a very quick getaway (which, no, she won’t put pastherself).

After ordering herself a drink and getting settled in her seat, there’s still over ten minutes to go, and so she pulls out her phone to check in on Gemma.

“She’s fine, Clarke,” Marcus answers with, after only two rings, and Clarke can’t help but snort a soft laugh.

“Am I that predictable?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, whatever,” she says, biting back a smile. “How’s the day been, anyway?”

“Here, I’ll put you on speaker. We’ve had a nice day so far, haven’t we, button?” He prompts, a moment later.

“Yes!” Gem’s voice comes over the phone.

“Yeah? What’ve you guys been doing?”

“Well, we went to the park, and played on the swings and slides, right, Gem?”

“Yeah!”

“And what did we do when we got home?”

“We play dance party!” Gemma exclaims, sounding better than she has in days. It makes Clarke smile, equal parts happy and relieved. “And blocks!”

“We were building some towers,” Marcus adds.

“Ooh, that sounds like fun,” Clarke says. “How many blocks did you get in a tower?”

“Manies!”

Clarke laughs. “Oh, manies? Sounds like a lot of blocks.”

“I think we got to about seven before Gem wanted to knock them down,” Marcus prompts, a smile in his voice. “And now we’re gonna read a book and have a nap, aren’t we, Gem?”

“Pwincess book.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Clarke says with a smile, but her eyes catch Bellamy through the window, as he walks along the street towards the cafe, and it falters. She thought she’d have a few more minutes. “I’m glad you’ve had a good day, button.” He pulls open the door and finds her quickly, exchanging a few words with one of the waitresses before starting his way over to her. “I’ll, um — I’ll see you later today, okay? I gotta go.”

“No worries, Clarke, we’ll see you soon. Say bye, Gem.”

“Bye, Mummy!”

“Say love you.”

“Love you!”

Bellamy approaches, offers Clarke a smile as he goes to take the seat across from her.

“Love you, too,” Clarke says. “See you in a few hours.”

She hangs up, puts her phone on the table, and gives Bellamy a tight smile back. He’s earlier than she expected, which maybe she _should’ve_ expected, but it leaves her feeling a little mentally unprepared for pleasantries. He looks good, of course, in a well-fitted white shirt and a nice blue tie, and Clarke manages to only stare at his arms for a second before meeting his eyes.

“Important call?” He asks with a small smile, sounding a little unsure of himself, not hitting the casual tone Clarke’s sure he was going for.

“No,” she says, letting out a shaky breath before offering Bellamy another smile, trying for something like reassurance. But she doesn’t give any further explanation, and he doesn’t ask, and they sit in silence for a few long seconds, before she sighs. “Well, this is awkward.”

Bellamy barks out a laugh, and the tension seems to break enough for him to relax. “Yeah, a bit.”

Her smile comes easier this time. “So, how are you?”

“Yeah, alright. Work’s busy, but that’s usually a good sign. What about — how have you been?”

Clarke’s difficult weekend with Gemma plays in her mind, but she pushes it away. “Yeah, good. Work _wasn’t_ busy for me, but that means I get time to sketch, which is a little hard normally. So that was nice this morning.”

“You’re still doing your art?” Bellamy asks with an encouraging smile, and she’s a little surprised that he seems to have remembered that about her.

“Um, yeah — yeah, when I can.” She clears her throat. “So, why’d you want to catch up?”

“I need a good reason?” Bellamy asks, but he sounds amused, not offended.

“It’s been a while,” Clarke points out. “It seems plausible you might’ve just — moved on with your life, after bumping into me.”

Something flashes across his face, so quick she’s sure she imagined it, before Bellamy clears his throat. “Yeah, no. I wasn’t going to do that. Uh, honestly? Seeing you again was — it was good.” He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tick. “I remembered you lived here, of course, but I never really thought I’d see you again. Not when we hadn’t stayed in contact for a couple of years, not when I didn’t even have your number. But we were — we got along, right? Before?”

“Yeah, we did.”

Bellamy swallows, nods a little, as if to himself. “It was honestly a relief seeing you. Like, okay, I know someone in this city. O and Lincoln are here, of course, but outside of some new people from work, it’s not like I have many familiar faces in my life at the moment. And it’s possible I’m not the best at making friends. I was kinda hoping you’d have good enough memories of me that you’d be happy to hang out. Be friends.”

Clarke can’t help but smile a little. He sounds nervous, a bit unsure of himself, and it makes her feel better, like he’s really thought about this and is asking in earnest. It feels like it already bodes well for the inevitable conversation about Gemma.

“Yeah, of course. That sounds — that would be nice.”

His smile seems relieved, and his eyes flick over her face for a moment, and Clarke’s grateful that a waitress comes over to get both of their orders. She doesn’t need Bellamy looking at her like that.

They both order pasta, and after another moment of awkwardness once the woman leaves, Clarke decides to just go for it and ask what she wants to ask. 

“So, how long have you known Lincoln?”

Bellamy considers. “Almost two years? He met O in London during her first year there, and they started dating pretty soon after that.”

“And you’re close?”

“We weren’t,” Bellamy says, smile a little wry after he huffs out a short laugh. “I didn’t really approve at first. He’s a year older than _me_ , in my defence,” he adds, when Clarke raises an eyebrow. “Seven years older than O. It was a rough few months, but eventually I got over it. Saw how much he loved her. It wasn’t something I wanted to lose my baby sister over, so I swallowed my pride and apologised. But we get along now. He’s a good guy.”

“Which you worked out after you already jumped to your own conclusions.”

“Jesus, you sound like O.” He chuckles a little, smile sheepish. “I’ll admit, not my finest moment. Uh, what about you? Were you friends with him?”

“Not really,” Clarke admits. “I mean, we worked together, but it was the kinda job where only one person was on shift at a time, but we saw each other during handover. And there’s a community centre next door we both did work at, so sometimes we did workshops with kids together. But, yeah. I haven’t really kept up with him since he left. It was definitely a shock to see him again.”

Bellamy smirks. “More of a shock than seeing me?”

Clarke huffs out a laugh. She’s not sure anyone could ever beat that moment. “No, not quite.” She lets out a quick shaky breath before she says it, just to be sure. “So what did Lincoln say when you asked him for my number?”

He shrugs, face remaining exactly the same, and it’s a comfort. It doesn’t seem like he was waiting for an opening. “Not much,” he says. “Just send it through, mentioned it was funny we both ran into you on the same day.”

She’s not sure that funny is the word she’d use, but she doesn’t mention that to Bellamy. By all accounts it sounds like he has no idea she’s got a kid. Which is the first thing she wanted to establish, and now it’s moving onto finding out where he’s been for the last three years, what he’s been doing. But Bellamy beats her to it; apparently she was quiet for too long.

“Did you end up going to med school?”

“Oh, um — no, I didn’t. I actually took a year off instead.”

“Yeah? Why’d you do that?”

She swallows the words _to have your baby,_ and finds a more appropriate response. “Just needed to figure out what I wanted to do.” She also needed the time to work out being a new mum, but she doesn’t tell Bellamy that. “I didn’t want to waste time and money on something I wasn’t going to finish and didn’t want to pursue.”

“And did you?” He asks.

“Yeah, I think so.” She shakes her head, smiles a little. “No, I know so. I started a teachers program, I’m going to be a high school bio teacher.”

Bellamy grins, bright and happy. “That’s awesome, Clarke.” She laughs, ducking her head, slightly embarrassed, but he nudges her foot and she looks back up at him. “I’m serious. I told you you’d figure it out. When do you start?”

“This coming school year, hopefully. I finished the course in March, have interviewed for quite a few schools. I’m just waiting to hear back now.”

“Fuck, that must be nerve-wracking.”

Clarke laughs, and Bellamy smiles right back, a little sheepish. “Yeah, it really is. I’ve been working as much as possible, trying to keep myself busy so I don’t spiral. But, yeah, it should be any day now. I’ve got my fingers crossed.”

“Well I’ll cross mine for you, as well.”

Clarke’s smile softens, and she ducks her head with it. “Thanks, Bellamy.”

“I’m sure you’ll get one, Clarke.”

She nods, lets out a breath that’s filled with nerves. It’s not something she’s agonising over constantly, because she knows her interviews went well, and she really does feel confident she’ll get somewhere she likes, but it’s still hard not to be nervous. Waiting for the outcome has been difficult.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be alright. So, what about you? I’m assuming you moved here for work?”

“Yeah, I did. Promotion came with a relocation.” He looks a little embarrassed, as though he doesn’t like admitting he’s good at his job, and it’s Clarke turn to nudge his foot.

“Congrats, that’s awesome. Same company?”

“Yeah, it is. Plus, O was here. It kind of worked out perfectly.”

Clarke bites back a smile. “And I’m sure she thought you were just following her?”

“For the second time, yeah.” Clarke cocks her head and he clucks his tongue. “First to England, now here.”

“You went to England?”

“Yeah, that’s actually where I’ve been these past few years. I moved there for work. Pretty soon after I left L.A., actually.” Okay, well that explains that. Clarke nods, takes a quick sip of her drink, her mouth suddenly very dry. “I was offered a promotion. Which I tried to explain to O a _lot_ , but she was convinced I was upending my entire life just because I didn’t trust her to take care of herself.” He rolls his eyes, fond, and Clarke manages a smile. “It wasn’t like she was even around much. London became a bit of a base for her, but she was travelling and working a lot of the time I was there, anyway. But yeah, eventually she admitted she was glad I was closer, so it’s fine. And this time round, she just teased me about it, so there’s been some progress.”

“And she moved here because of Lincoln?”

“Yeah, just made more sense, when he had family still here.”

Clarke nods, and then there’s a brief pause in conversation as their waitress brings around their food, but they manage to pick it back easily enough as they start on their meals.

And it’s nice, weirdly familiar, as they slip back into the easy conversation. She tells him about work and study, about how her friends are going, and he in turn talks about his new job, about Octavia and Lincoln, what it’s like moving to a new place for the second time in three years. She learns that his sister completed a fitness and physical education course, and now splits her time as a personal trainer at a local gym and working with an organisation that runs sports workshops at schools around the city. Lincoln’s apparently opening up a gallery with someone he knew before he left, which is keeping him busy, and Bellamy’s own new job sounds like it’s going well, too. He even mentions Miller, which makes Clarke hide a smile, referring to him as Nathan and only having positive words for her friend, which is weird but overall definitely nice.

So it’s good, easy in a way it definitely shouldn’t be, nice in the way Clarke hoped it _would_ be, but it’s still there in the back of her mind the whole time, this huge thing she’s keeping from him. But she needed the day to do this with Bellamy, and despite how well it’s going, she still wants to evaluate everything once she’s home and has time to properly process and think. Introducing Bellamy to Gemma is not only going to change her and her daughter’s lives, but Bellamy’s too, and she doesn’t take that lightly. Even if she wanted to, it would be unfair of her to drop a bomb on him before he had to go back to work.

Clarke’s just finished telling Bellamy how Raven is — happy, recently single, with an awesome job she loves and is killing it at — when he brings up the last thing she was hoping to get some sort of explanation of: Echo. It’s a relief, because it definitely didn’t feel like something she could ask herself, but it _is_ something she’s curious about.

“I, uh — look, let’s be real here. I know I don’t really owe you anything, and you definitely don’t me anything, in this way. But, shit, last week was awkward.” Clarke can’t help but laugh, and Bellamy smiles somewhat helplessly. “I just wanted to clear the air, I guess. We’re not dating, or anything. I’ve only known her for about a month, and, yeah — it’s nothing serious.”

Clarke nods, offers a small smile. So, he’s just hooking up with her. Just like he was just hooking up with Clarke.

“So Bellamy Blake’s still bad at committing?” She makes herself ask, as much a reminder for herself as a question she’s wondering how he’ll answer.

He chuckles softly, rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I haven’t found anyone worth committing to,” he says, and she’s sure he didn’t mean it in the way she’s taking it, but it feels like a slap to the face.

_I’d be a god awful boyfriend, princess,_ he had told her, and it’s something she reminded herself whenever she started thinking of the _what if_ s that sometimes came.

But here’s the thing: three years ago he left, and was able to move on with his life. He didn’t have to think about her again, didn’t have to wonder where she was or what she was doing, didn’t have to feel sick with the knowledge that he couldn’t contact her. He hasn’t been wondering about her medical history, or worrying about how to explain to his child why they only had one parent. He hasn’t had to do any of that.

Clarke hasn’t had that luxury, _doesn’t_ have that luxury. She’s spent the last three years thinking about Bellamy, being reminded of him every time she’s looked into her daughter’s eyes.

Closure isn’t something she’s ever really gotten to have.

And hearing that he hasn’t found someone worth committing to, that he hadn’t thought about _her_ , it makes her chest tighten into awful, aching knots. It’s irrational, she knows; they spent less than two weeks together, and it’s unfair of her to hold him to a commitment they didn’t really have. But she remembers how they were by the end, how _he_ was. The curve of his smile and the warmth of his touch. The last time they slept together, slow but desperate, unspoken emotion swelling between them. The way he looked after their last kiss, as if he was trying to hold onto the moment for just a few extra seconds. She remembers all of these things.

So it may not be rational, but it still hurts. He’s been able to move on and she hasn’t.

He gets to tell her he hasn’t found anyone worth committing to, while she’s had to commit to him, to his _child,_ without him even knowing.

She swallows past the lump in her throat, offers a small smile.

“Well I hope you do one day,” she manages to say, and when Bellamy looks at her for a long moment, she squirms a little. He looks like he’s about to say something, and part of her is desperate to know what, but then his phone starts ringing and she makes herself look away.

“Bellamy Blake,” he answers the phone, before exchanging a quick conversation that ends with a frustrated sigh and a sad smile to Clarke. “Yeah, no. That’s fine. I’ll be right up. Give me ten. Sorry, that was work,” he says to Clarke, once he hangs up. “I have to get going.”

It feels like an odd note to end on, but Clarke’s not going to ask him to stay, not going to ask him to finishing whatever he was going to say earlier. So she smiles instead.

“That’s fine. I better get going myself.” They grab the check, which Bellamy insists on paying for, and end up walking out of the cafe together. “Did you just walk over?”

“Yeah, it’s just a couple of blocks. You drive?”

“Yep, just parked across the street.” She had made sure it wouldn’t be somewhere he could walk with her to, since Gem’s carseat is set up. “It was nice seeing you,” she offers, and he ducks his head on a smile.

“Yeah, I’m, uh — I’m glad you agreed to grab lunch. I do appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

“And hopefully we can do it again sometime? Stay in touch?”

He sounds so unsure of himself that Clarke can’t help but reach out and squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” And then, in a moment of courage, she leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek. It’s the closest she’s been to him in over three years, and it’s a little overwhelming, feeling his warmth and catching his familiar scent. She makes herself pull back and offer a smile. “It was good catching up, Bell. I’ll see you around.”

“Sounds good, princess,” he says with one last grin, before he starts walking down the street, and Clarke lets herself watch him for a few seconds before letting out a breath and crossing the street to her car.

All things considered, it felt like it went well. It was good getting to catch up, and Clarke feels like she got what she needed to out of it. The questions she wanted answered mostly have been, and she’s got more of a sense of Bellamy than she did last week. And he’s still — he’s still _good_ , she thinks. Still the good person that she knew three years ago, caring and smart and funny, still someone she gets along with way too easily.

It’s hard to say whether the final thing she was wondering really got resolved: whether Bellamy would be able to handle being a father. The whole Echo thing, the whole _commitment_ thing, throws her a little bit, but it doesn’t feel fair to judge him on that when he doesn’t know. It still worries her, that he might really _not_ be someone who commits, but relationships are different from being a parent, and she can recognise that. And she does still remember that he was looking after his sister from when he was young, how he stepped up and took on the responsibility. It was too much to ask of him when he was only a child himself, but he’s an adult now, turning thirty this year, and it feels like he could handle it.

It doesn’t matter anyway, though, is ultimately irrelevant, because he deserves to know. No matter what.

It’s that thought she has as she picks Gem up from her parents’, hugging the little girl tight and asking how her day has been. She’s too young to understand what’s about to happen, too young to know what she’s missing out on. But it also means she’ll be too young to even remember Bellamy not being here. If he decides he wants to stay, wants to be part of his daughter’s life.

And Clarke thinks that he will. Thinks that he could be great with Gemma, that he could love her as much as Clarke does.

All she needs to do now is figure out how to tell him.

**

With the lunch with Bellamy out of the way, the rest of the week goes by relatively more quickly, if also quite a bit more chaotically. Raven comes by on Monday night as promised, bringing Thai and wine with her, and they spend their time playing with Gemma before she goes to bed, and debriefing everything once she’s asleep, and Clarke makes the decision to tell Bellamy about Gemma on the weekend.

She arranges a time to see him, and that’s that. A deadline for herself; enough time that she’ll be able to figure out exactly what she wants to say, but not so much that her quiet freaking out spirals to a full blown meltdown.

Tuesday, she tells her mum and Marcus that he’s back when they come around for dinner, and Wednesday it’s a call to Wells to let him know as well, just so she’s covered all her major bases before the conversation with Bellamy.

And it feels like a good plan, a solid one: Raven and Wells will watch Gemma while Clarke gets lunch with Bellamy on Saturday, and if all goes smoothly, Clarke will offer for him to come over to meet her. That’ll give him half of Saturday and all of Sunday to process everything, and allow herself the same time, depending on how it goes.

So she feels better than she probably could be, finishing up work on Thursday to pick Gem up from daycare, knowing that in forty eight hours, Bellamy will know about his daughter. And maybe, with how it’s all unfolded so far, she shouldn’t be surprised that she never even gets a chance to play out her plan, but apparently Clarke’s still blind to some of the curveballs the universe likes the throw at her.

And apparently the universe likes to throw them at her a lot.

**

“Hey, Rachel,” Clarke greets as she heads into the lobby of the daycare. It’s just getting to four, and she’s got most of the extended group of her friends coming around tonight, for a movie night. It’ll be a nice way to distract her from tomorrow’s events.

“Hey, Clarke,” Rachel says with a smile, handing her the usual form. “You know the drill.”

“Yep,” Clarke says, quickly jotting down the time and signing against Gemma’s name before handing it back. She’s just grabbing Gemma’s bag from the usual locker when her phone starts ringing, and when it comes up as an unknown number, she pauses. Under normal circumstances, she hates answering unknown phone calls, but this could easily be a school calling regarding the positions she’s applied for. “Sorry, I have to take this,” she tells Rachel, swinging Gem’s bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to grab her.”

Rachel waves her off with a smile. “It’s fine, Clarke. I’ll bring her out for you.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Gives me an extra cuddle to last me the weekend.”

Clarke laughs, shooting her a smile in thanks. “Alright, thanks. I’ll just be outside.”

She picks up the call just before it reaches voicemail, answering with what she hopes is a friendly yet professional greeting as she steps back outside, finding a quieter corner to have this conversation.

Thankfully, it turns out to be a really, _really_ good conversation, the school she had a second interview with offering her the job, and Clarke’s somehow able to actually speak with them and thank them for the few minutes they’re on the phone before she lets relief and happiness take over and shoots a quick text to her mum as she grins excitedly. It’s the school she wanted, the one that felt the best when she went there, like it could be a good fit, like Clarke could really _enjoy_ her time there, and it feels like the stress of the last few weeks and months of applications and interviews just washes away, easy as anything.

She’s got a job, and things are well and truly falling into place.

Once she formally accepts it — she’s giving herself a few days just to be sure — she’ll have a timeline to work towards for all the planning she needs to get done, and that’ll be a whole other project of craziness and stress, but for now, she can just be happy.

“Fancy seeing you here, princess.”

And just like that, the happiness clouds, dread pools at her core, and she looks up from her phone to find that _no_ , she wasn’t mistaken, and for some reason, some _fucking_ reason, Bellamy is standing right there in front of her, amusement in his eyes and a small smile on his face.

“Bellamy. What’re you doing here?” She asks, without any finesse whatsoever. Unsurprisingly, his smile falters into a slight frown.

“Picking up O,” he says. “She’s doing a program at the primary school just here, asked me to get her because her car’s at the shop.” It seems too unlikely, too unfair that this would be happening, but it is. Of course his sister is working the school right next to the Nursery School Gem goes to. “What about you?”

She doesn’t manage a response to the question, not when she looks past him to see Gem, hand in hand with Rachel as they make their way over. Her eyes flick back to Bellamy, and he understandably looks confused, concerned. She can’t even imagine what he’s seeing when he looks at her right now, other than a general nervous mess.

And all she can do it put a hand on his arm, look him in the eye.

“Bellamy, I am so sorry,” she says, voice rough but pleading, catching on the last word, and worry flickers over his face.

“Clarke, what’s going on?” He asks, soft but urgent as his eyes search her face. “Are you okay?”

She glances past him again, catches Rachel’s eye and manages a thankful smile as the woman lets go of Gemma’s hand, and then her daughter is racing towards them — towards her and Bellamy — as fast as her little legs can take her, smile wide and curls flying.

“Mummy!” She calls, and Clarke can’t help but watch Bellamy as his expression clouds and he turns around, eyes finding Gemma just as she makes it to Clarke. Clarke leans down and catches her, swinging her up onto her hip with a smile for her daughter. “I got Occi a friend!”

“You got Occi a friend?” Clarke asks, somehow managing to pitch her voice in the usual way the question requires. Gemma nods proudly. “That’s nice, button. Did you — did you have a good day?”

“Yeah! Was fun."

“That’s good, baby,” Clarke says, pressing a kiss to Gem’s forehead, letting the familiar warmth and smell steady her.

And then she makes herself re-focus and look at Bellamy.

He looks wrecked in a way Clarke’s never seen before, eyes stuck on the little girl in her arms, face drawn in shock and confusion. And she can see his mind working, trying to pick her age, figure out the timing, but from the look of him, he already knows, or at least already _suspects_. The raw emotion that flashes in his eyes is enough, but she can see the unanswered question there too, when he looks back to her.

She inclines her head just slightly, an acknowledgement, an answer, and his eyes close heavily, as if he couldn’t even keep them open if he tried. And _god,_ she wants to hold him, explain everything, apologise over and over, tell him this isn’t the way she wanted him to find out. Tell them that she wanted to introduce him to his daughter properly, that she had a _plan._

But she can’t, not with Gemma in her arms, oblivious right now, but old enough that she’d be confused and maybe even a little scared if Clarke started acting so oddly to a man she’s never met before.

Bellamy opens his eyes again, and Clarke can see the way he swallows roughly, against what she can only imagine is the building feeling of an onslaught of emotion.

She can’t help but offer a small, sad smile herself, and she lets out a deep breath before she can even say the words, making herself look right at him as she speaks. He matches the intensity of her gaze, and Clarke feels her eyes grow glassy with unshed tears.

“Bellamy,” she finally says, his name rough on her mouth. “This is my daughter, Gemma.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao suckers.  
> Hope you enjoyed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys owe me. I felt bad leaving you with that cliffhanger.  
> This chapter: sorry at the beginning, you're welcome and the end, EXPECT FEELS THROUGHOUT.  
> As always, thanks for the amazing feedback. You're truly a special lot.

For a long moment, Clarke feels lost in Bellamy. His expression, somehow both wrecked and guarded, his impossibly deep eyes that betray the emotion his clenched jaw is trying to hold back, and all Clarke wants to do is understand what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Know the hundreds of things she suspects are swirling through his mind right now.

But she doesn’t ask, couldn’t say anything even if she wanted to. Her mouth is dry and her throat feels rough, like any words she wanted to offer would get caught before Bellamy could even hear them anyway. And so she just looks at him, and he just looks at her, and despite trying to swallow the feeling, Clarke can’t help but feel inklings of hope spark in her chest.

That there’s a chance this could go well, that Bellamy will be okay, that he’ll understand.

It feels like minutes go by without a word spoken between them, with their eyes locked together, with Clarke feeling a little like she’s been ripped open, like she could just start crying at any moment, but in reality she knows it’s only a few seconds. Gemma is never quiet for long, and eventually she does notice that Clarke’s not alone, like she normally is when she picks her up, that there’s a man she doesn’t know standing only a couple of feet away.

“Mummy,” the little girl says, tugging at a strand of Clarke’s hair to get her attention, and it works. She manages to blink back the tears in her eyes before she focuses back on her daughter and gives her a warm smile.

“Yeah, baby?” She asks, readjusting her slightly.

“What’s that?” Gemma asks, face crooked into Clarke’s neck shyly.

“Who’s that,” Clarke corrects, running a hand through Gem’s hair to try to reassure her. “He’s a friend of Mummy’s, Gem. His name is Bellamy.”

Gemma twists in Clarke’s arm a little, enough to look at Bellamy more directly, and his gaze settles on her when she does, his eyes softening completely. 

“Bell-me,” Gemma says, trying out the name, and Bellamy closes his eyes again, a rattled breath leaving him.

“Bellamy, that’s right,” Clarke encourages, eyes on him, the man she knows she could’ve loved, before making herself look back to Gemma. The daughter they created together.

“Ding ding ding ding!” Gem starts to chirp as she waves her arms around, and Clarke laughs quietly as she manages to dodge a slap to the face.

“Yeah, baby. Ding ding, just like a bell.”

She looks back at Bellamy, but he remains silent, watching Gemma, watching Clarke, and she wants to say something, something more. Maybe if she can convince him to come to her place tonight, this whole thing can be salvaged. The flicker of hope is still there, but it already feels naive to Clarke.

Still, she wants to try, so she clears her throat, steps a little closer to him.

“Bellamy,” she says, his name coming out a murmur, soft and maybe even soothing, and when his eyes flash, lock back on hers, she goes to say something more.

But the reason for Bellamy even _being_ _here_ doesn’t give her the chance.

“What’s up, loser?” A voice calls, startling them both, and when Clarke looks past Bellamy it’s to find who she assumes is Octavia. She’s pretty, in the limited sense Clarke can appreciate right now, dark hair and a nice, teasing smile. “Thanks for picking me up. Who’s this?” She adds, eyes flicking to Clarke before they land on Gemma, brows raising even as she smiles at the little girl.

Clarke half expects Bellamy to say something, to introduce her to his sister, but when he doesn’t, the reality starts to settle, with aching certainty, that this is not going to go the way Clarke had hoped.

“I’m Clarke,” she manages to say after a long moment, and it’s impossible not to notice the recognition of her name that passes in Octavia’s eyes as she offers her hand.

“Octavia, Bellamy’s sister,” she responds with a slight smirk, shaking her hand. “And who’s this precious girl?”

“This is my daughter, Gemma.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little angel,” Octavia starts to coo, apparently now completely oblivious of Bellamy, still silent, still not having moved at all. “Look at these gorgeous blonde curls. Just like your mumma, hey?”

Gemma giggles, and Clarke has to swallow past the lump in her throat. This is Gemma’s _aunt._ And it feels impossible that she won’t realise this soon enough, not when she finally realises how Bellamy’s acting.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how she’s managed to stay blonde.” Clarke clears her throat, looking down to smile at Gem. “Button, you wanna say hello to Octavia?”

“Occi!” Gemma says, holding up her soft toy to Octavia’s face.

Clarke can’t help but chuckle. “No, baby, not Occi. That’s her toy,” she adds for Octavia. “Octavia.”

“Occi!”

Octavia laughs. “That’s alright. You can just call me O, if you want.”

“O,” Gemma repeats, burying her face back into Clarke’s neck, shifting back to shy instantly, before peaking her eyes out and giggling. She can be a little ridiculous sometimes. Octavia’s smiling, at least.

“You know, when Lincoln mentioned you had a kid I just assumed it was a baby. How old is she?”

“A little over two and a half,” Clarke says, soft, and it’s only then that Bellamy makes a sound, finally.

But it’s something choked and harsh, and when Clarke lets herself look back at him, his face is split open, heartbreak written all over it. She feels her chest ache with the expression immediately, wishing she could step into him, offer him something, comfort or reassurance, but she can’t. She’s not sure he’d even let her get close to him, right now.

“Bell?” Octavia says, concern clear in her voice. He doesn’t respond, and from the corner of her eye Clarke can see Octavia looking between them a few times, obviously confused, before she finally settles on Gemma, the moment of realisation clear. “Two and a half years,” she echos, going to put a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “Bell…”

Bellamy finally looks away, dropping his head before he shakes it a few times, as if to clear his thoughts, clear everything that’s just happened from his mind. He shrugs off Octavia’s touch before turning around and walking away, without so much as a word.

“Bellamy,” Clarke calls out, hearing the pleading tone in her own voice, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t hesitate for even a second.

Octavia looks back to Clarke, and it’s honestly like looking at a different person from half a minute ago, her expression stormy and her eyes burning with anger, but thankfully it’s only for a few seconds before she turns around and chases after her brother.

And so Clarke just stands there, watching Bellamy as he walks away, shoulders drawn tight and steps jagged, shock and hurt carving their way into her chest. She didn’t think it would go this badly, didn’t think that Bellamy would react the way he did, didn’t think —

“Bye-bye,” Gemma calls out, and Clarke looks down to see her daughter waving goodbye to the two retreating siblings. She’s not so loud either of them can hear, but it makes Clarke’s heart ache, sharp and sudden, and she bites back what feels like could be an actual sob.

“Come on, baby,” she says, after taking a long, deep breath. She even manages a genuine smile when Gemma looks at her with a grin, the ache easing. “Let’s go home.”

**

Clarke cancels the night’s plans in the big group chat, not bothering with any sort of an explanation, just a quick apology, and she ignores the disappointed responses that come through, not able to find it in herself to care.

If she’s being rude, they’ll understand when she finally tells everyone what’s going on. For now, she doesn’t have the energy to deal with it.

But that doesn’t mean she’s completely off the hook, because of course Raven messages her separately only a few minutes later, asking what’s wrong, and Clarke knows the quickest way to get through this is just tell the truth.

**Clarke:** Bellamy found out, didn’t go well

**Raven:** Fuck babe. Do you want me to come over?

**Clarke:** I think I just need to be alone right now  
I need to get Gem sorted for the night and that’s about all I feel I can handle for now  
I’ll talk to you tomorrow, though, okay?

**Raven:** Of course, whatever you need  
Please call me if you need anything, okay?

**Clarke:** Will do  
Thanks Rave

She hesitates for a moment, but then hops into another group chat, and can’t help typing out another quick message.

**_And they (could've been) roommates!_ **

**Clarke:** There’s a chance Bellamy will look like crap tomorrow, Miller

**Miller:** Yeah?

**Clarke:** Yeah  
I don’t really have anything else to add, just letting you know  
Because you know him

**Monty:** Are you okay?

**Clarke:** He found out and it wasn’t great  
I’m just processing  
But yeah, I just thought you should know because you’ll probably see him

**Miller:** And am I meant to be glad he looks like crap or not?  
Do you want me to spill hot coffee on him and claim it was an accident?

Clarke can’t help a small huff of laughter. A tiny part of her wants to say yes, but it’s not fair. Just because she’s feeling awful right now, doesn’t mean that it’s Bellamy’s fault. He’s the reason for it, of course, but she can’t actually _blame_ him.

She can recognise that it’s just an awful situation, even if she is upset with him.

**Clarke:** Nah, nothing like that  
You should probably just offer him coffee instead

**Raven:** But I will punch him if it is required

**Monty:** Nobody would doubt that

**Miller:** Not at all

**Clarke:** I’ll keep you updated  
Good chat  
I’m probably turning off my phone now  
Night guys

**** **

Clarke is able to make it all the way home without crying.

She messages her friends without crying, and she prepares dinner without crying. She gives her daughter a bath, helps her eat, and gets her ready for bed without crying. She reads a bedtime story, sings a soft lullaby, and watches Gem drift to sleep, all the while somehow managing not to shed a single tear.

She slips from Gem’s room and does the dishes, puts the leftovers in the fridge without managing to find an appetite for herself. She has a shower and changes into her pyjamas. She grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge, and the very large glass Harper gave her a few Christmases ago. And then she settles into bed with her drink, and navigates to a mindless comedy on Netflix. 

And finally,  _finally_ , she lets herself cry.

Because she knows she can do this by herself. She knows because she has been, has been a single parent to Gem since the moment the little girl was born, since she found out she was even _pregnant_. And it’s not to discount everything her family and friends have done, because Clarke knows how much she’s relied on them and their support. But it’s never been the same as having a partner, something who was right there with her for each and every step, going through the exact same simultaneously terrifying and wonderful experience of becoming a parent.

These past three years, Clarke’s been alone in that way. Bellamy wasn’t there for the first ultrasound, to see the blob on screen that would become Gemma and hear the quick and strong heartbeat. He never felt her kick or marvel at the fact that she could _hiccup_. He didn’t hold Clarke’s hand through hours of labour, or cry at the first glimpse of their perfect daughter. He wasn’t there to rock Gemma to sleep, or soothe her cries throughout the night. He missed out on first words and first steps, on tantrums and _I love you_ s and playing in the park and reading before bed. Birthdays and Christmases and Halloween. On so, _so_ much.

And it’s not his fault. Clarke _knows_ that.

He didn’t know Gemma existed. And Clarke always believed that if he had, he would’ve been right there with her through everything.

And when she discovered he was back, there was a part of her that hoped, wished, dreamed, that now he could be part of Gemma’s life. Part of both of their lives. Because even though she was scared, anxious of having to tell him and how he’d react, worried that he might not be able to fully commit to the role of a parent, she still had a spark of something in her chest, something _good._ And it grew when she caught up with him, saw that he was still the same good person she remembered. Despite her nerves overshadowing most of her feelings, her wariness of the whole situation, it was there, and it felt promising.

And now it feels like Clarke’s chest has been cracked in half, and the flicker of hope is gone, as are the nerves. The revelation eliminated both, leaving only a feeling of sadness, heartache.

Because she knows she can do this by herself. But _god,_ she doesn’t want to.

Not when Bellamy’s here, not when she could share this with him. Show him how wonderful their daughter is, that she’s the best thing in Clarke’s entire world.

But apparently he doesn’t even want to know, at least not yet.

And, _fuck,_ she can’t even blame him. She had months to prepare for being a parent, and he barely got a couple of seconds before the bombshell was dropped on him. As much as she wishes it went better, she can’t find it in herself to be angry with him.

So she’s left with her tears and her sadness, the memory of the broken expression on his face, the defeat in his eyes. This isn’t something she can fix tonight, maybe even _ever_ , and it only makes her cry harder.

She falls into a restless sleep before nine even hits, just needing the day to be over.

** 

It takes Clarke a good fifteen seconds before she registers the sound that woke her as a loud knocking on the front door. It’s enough for her to fumble with her phone, turn it on and find it’s only half past nine, and that she’s got a bunch of missed calls and texts. Her eyes skim them briefly, before coming to a stop on Bellamy’s: four texts and six missed calls.

It makes her heart clench painfully in her chest, and she’s tempted to stay in bed and swipe the messages open, but the banging continues, so she pushes the feeling down. Instead, she stumbles to her feet and makes her way to the front door quickly; she doesn’t want Gem waking up and having a bad sleep because of this.

“Fucking hell,” she grumbles softly, hand running through her hair, frustrated, wishing she didn’t have to deal with whatever this is. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

And then when she pulls the door open, he’s there.

Looking _awful,_ hair a mess and eyes exhausted, expression still that wrecked one that she won’t be forgetting any time soon.

“Bellamy,” she says, and his name sounds broken coming from her.

“You’re friends with Nathan,” is all he says, voice rough, and she swallows hard, emotion building in her chest quickly already, rising up to squeeze her heart and tighten her throat.

“Yes.”

“And you tried calling me, to tell me about her.”

“Yes.”

“But my phone was stolen. And then I moved overseas.”

She has to swallow past the lump in her throat again, and her response is no louder than a whisper. “Yes.”He releases a long and shaken breath, nodding once, a confirmation of what he’s obviously already figured out, and it dawns on her then, slowly, sadly, but with understanding. “You thought I didn’t tell you on purpose,” she says. “You thought I didn’t want you to know.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers, smile weak, and she shakes her head, because she’s not after any apologies.

“Do you want to come inside?” She asks, and the relief on his face is instant.

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat quietly. “That’d be — that’d be great, Clarke.”

She nods, ducking her head on a small, sad smile, and steps back to let him in. After locking the front door again, she turns to find him standing only a few feet away, watching her earnestly. It’s a little too much, a little too intense this time of night, with everything that’s happened and all the emotions that are whirling through her, so Clarke walks past him, into the kitchen.

He follows, pulling out a counter stool when Clarke gestures to it, and sits down.

And then they just watch each other for a long moment, in the quiet, with all the truth laid open between them.

“Do you want some tea?” Clarke asks after a minute, feeling herself getting fidgety. “Coffee?”

“You have anything stronger?” He asks with a soft, wry laugh, and Clarke huffs one of her own, turning to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine.

“White okay?” She asks, and at his nod, pours them both a glass.

“So you’re not…” he gestures vaguely to Clarke’s chest after she passes him a glass, before rubbing the back of his neck, sheepish. “Anymore?” He finishes somewhat lamely.

She can’t help a small laugh. “No, I stopped about half a year ago, now. But you can still drink when you’re—” she imitates his gesture, to his own chest. “You just have to time it correctly.”

“Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve thought about any of this stuff.”

Clarke nods, understanding. His sister. He was only young when she was born, she remembers, not even older than ten. She’s surprised he remembers much of anything to do with having a child, let alone the logistics of breast feeding.

“It’s okay,” she offers, giving him a small smile. “I’m just teasing. I stopped breast feeding when Gemma was about two.” She clears her throat. “You went to my old place?” She guesses, after a moment.

“Yeah,” Bellamy says with a nod, placing his glass on the counter. “It was the only thing I could think of doing, when I realised your phone was off. Your name is still on the list outside, you know that?” Clarke shakes her head, because she didn’t, but it’s not really surprising; her friends can be a bit slack, sometimes. “Well, it is. I’m surprised I even remembered where your building was, but I did, somehow. And when I asked for you, your friend Monty let me up. I was pretty fucking surprised when I saw the guy I’m working with lived there too.”

Clarke chuckles, ducking her head quickly. “Sorry,” she says, but he shakes his head, waving off the apology. His smile is wry.

“It’s alright. I get why you didn’t tell me. But, yeah. It was a shock.”

“And they gave you my new address?”

“Yeah. They tried calling you to see if it was alright, first, but Monty said you were probably asleep. They seemed to pity me enough to still let me come over, though. After they threatened me, of course.”

Clarke laughs. “Yeah? What does Monty look like when he’s threatening someone?”

“Scary,” Bellamy says, instant, and she laughs again. “Honestly, he was. He got up in my face a bit, told me not to fuck it up. It was good, though. I’m glad you’ve got friends like that, backing you up.”

“Yeah, I’ve been really lucky to have all of them.” She looks away, hands clenching for a moment before she makes herself release them. “You seem to have that, too. Your sister looked ready for murder this afternoon.”

“She was,” he admits. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s — it’s fine. With what you thought, I can’t blame her. Or you.” Her stomach chooses that moment to rumble, which she admittedly deserves, having not eaten dinner at all tonight. She tells herself not to be embarrassed and goes to the fridge, pulling out the leftover lasagne. “Hungry?” She asks, glancing over her shoulder to find Bellamy watching her intently.

“Starving, actually.”

She returns his small smile before turning to prepare the food, just reheating each in the microwave and grabbing some cutlery. And when that’s done, she takes a deep breath, and goes to the other side of the counter to sit next to Bellamy, handing him his bowl.

“Thank you,” he says, earnest, and it feels like he’s talking about more than just the food.

“You’re welcome,” she says, and the next few minutes are spent in relative quiet, each of them just eating their dinner and drinking their wine.

Bellamy’s the one to finally speak up again, about half way through his meal, with a frustrated sigh as he turns in his seat to face her. “Fuck, Clarke,” he says, and thankfully his next words work as to not let her mind go _there_. “I don’t know how I’m meant to do this.” 

Alarm fills her immediately, and she feels the transparency of it on her face straight away, not even able to _try_ to hide it. 

He’s quick to amend, shaking his head when he sees her expression. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she tries to ignore how large and warm it is, how it manages to settle her. It shouldn’t be possible. “No, no — not like — I didn’t mean it like that,” he stumbles through the words. “Fuck. Sorry. I just meant — how to start this conversation.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, the tension beginning to drain from her, even if her heart is still pounding.

“Look, I’ll tell you right now that I’ll be in her life.”

“Really?” She asks, the hope there as clear as the exhaustion. His thumb rubs her shoulder absently, and the tension there seeps some more.

“Of course,” he murmurs, voice low and serious, a softness there that makes her _ache._ “I never had a dad. Not really. The guy who knocked my mum up left before I was born, and whoever O’s dad was didn’t stay around very long either. And I don’t want to be like that. Not that — that’s not the only reason, it’s not just this sense of obligation. I _want_ to be in her life.” His voice waver on the last sentence, but even when he clears his throat it’s still thick with emotion. “Fuck, Clarke, I want to be in her life so much.”

It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed by it, the words she’s been imagining in some shape or form for over three years now being said aloud to her, with such emotion and conviction. Clarke feels her eyes fall closed, and she lifts a hand to hold over his, still on her shoulder, just letting herself touch him, allowing herself the solidness he’s somehow able to provide her, even after so much time has passed.

It’s been an emotional week.

“I can’t believe I missed it all,” he says after a long moment of silence, and Clarke opens her eyes to find his a little glazed over, expression pinched in sadness. She squeezes his hand and his gaze finds hers again. “I just — I can’t believe you had to go through this by yourself. All of it. And your daughter — _my_ …daughter — she didn’t have…me.” He shakes his head. “And fuck, that sounds so fucking selfish. This shouldn’t be about me.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke tries, but he shakes his head again.

“She has my eyes, Clarke.”

“I know.”

He looks away from her again, eyes focusing on a point on the kitchen counter. “O wanted a test,” he admits. “She said I couldn’t be certain. Fuck, it’s not like I even knew you for that long, you know? But I know you wouldn’t do that.” He says it with such confidence it’s staggering, and then he looks back to her, earnest. “And, fuck — she has my eyes.”

Clarke nods, giving Bellamy’s hand a squeeze. She’s not sure what to say, how to respond to something she’s known since her daughter was born but he’s only just discovering, how to go about any of this at all. There’s no easy way to navigate this, and she can’t even be certain what Bellamy wants, tonight at least.

So she decides to just ask him.

“What do you need tonight?” She asks, and he studies her for a few moments, as if to gage whether she’s serious about whatever it is she’s offering. And then he relaxes, eyes flooding with gratitude, and she knows he’s seen whatever he needed to.

“Can I explain what happened today first?” He asks, and Clarke nods immediately. She can understand that he needs to get this off his chest.

“Of course, Bellamy,” she says, but before he starts she lets go of his hand and slides off the kitchen stool. She heads over the couch, needing to be more comfortable for what feels like the beginning of a long conversation. “Come sit.”

He follows her slowly, sitting with a couple of feet between them. Clarke tucks her legs underneath her and faces him properly, unsurprised that he only turns in to her slightly; she wouldn’t be comfortable in his space either.

He doesn’t speak for a little while, brows drawn in thought as he he mulls his words through his mind, obviously wanting to say whatever it is he wants to say the right way. It gives her a chance to take him in properly, with a couple of feet between them. His shoulders are still tight, and he’s wringing his hands together, probably without even realising. His hair is still a mess and even with the good words they’ve already shared, he still looks wrecked. Not like the man she remembers three years ago, not even like the man she ran into earlier today, before he knew.

She doesn’t know exactly what he needs right now, but she knows she wants to comfort him, that she wants to be there for him right now, any way that she can.

“Lincoln didn’t tell me that you had a baby,” he chooses his words eventually. They come out rough. “I haven’t seen him in a few weeks, same with O. Today was the first time I was going to hang out with them in a while. So I had no warning at all.” He clear his throat, runs a hand through his hair. “I honestly don’t know what I thought when I bumped into you today. Fuck, it should’ve been a warning, but I never thought that you’d — that you’d be there—” 

“Picking up my daughter,” Clarke finishes when he can’t.

“Yeah.” He lets out a shaky breath, collecting himself a little, giving himself a moment before continuing. “As soon as I saw her, I had a feeling. Even with the blonde curls, she’s — well, she looked the right age. And I couldn’t think of another reason you wouldn’t tell me you had a kid. But then you gave me that look, and I just knew. And I thought — fuck. I thought that when you apologised it was because you’d kept it from me. I thought you didn’t want me to know.”

Clarke reaches forward before hesitating, but when Bellamy doesn’t pull away she lets herself take his hand. When he looks up at her his eyes are glassy and it makes her chest ache.

“I should’ve known you’d never do that, but — fuck, I couldn’t think straight,” he goes on, turning his hand over so their palms are touching. His thumb strokes her wrist, and she wonders why he thinks he needs to be comforting _her_ right now, but she probably shouldn’t be surprised. She still remembers this side of Bellamy clearly. “And when O came over, I think I just lost it. She was all over her and all I could think was that my sister got to talk to my — to my _daughter_ before I did.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke whispers, moving closer when a tear falls, but he wipes it away quickly, continues like she didn’t say anything.

“And I just couldn’t be there any more. I was so confused and so angry at you. I thought you didn’t want me in her life, that you didn’t want me to be her dad. God, I just had to get out of there.” He swallows thickly as his eyes fall to their joint hands, expression and voice equally exhausted. “I’m sorry I did that. I’m sorry I was so mad at you and didn’t give you a chance to explain. I hate that you went hours probably thinking I didn’t want anything to do with either of you. I’m just — I’m sorry.”

She has to blink back her own tears, heart aching with the anguish in his voice. Squeezing his hand, she waits for him to look back at her, needing him to see the honestly in her eyes when she tells him this.

“I forgive you,” she says, soft and earnest, and when he begins to shake his head she squeezes his hand again, voice going a little sharper. “Hey. I forgive you. And I don’t blame you. It’s — it’s _okay,_ Bellamy. I promise you it’s okay.”

He seems reluctant to accept her words, but after a long moment where they just watch each other, he nods, letting out a shaky breath as he once again brushes his eyes clear of any tears. She’s not sure whether he’s just appeasing her, or is actually able to recognise that she’s not angry at him, that she truly doesn’t blame him. Because they’re not just words she’s saying in an attempt to comfort him. This evening has been awful and heartbreaking, and Clarke’s not going to forget about it any time soon, but it wasn’t Bellamy’s fault. Not really.

His reaction was based on facts without any real context he understood, and she can understand why and how he jumped to the conclusions he had, even if they hurt. And he’s here now, trying to make it right. There’s not much more she can ask for than that.

“Do you want to know what I did when I found out I was pregnant?” She asks, after a moment.

Bellamy cocks his head, brows drawing. “Okay,” he says, maybe a little confused with the subject change.

“I punched Raven.”

His burst of laughter makes her smile. “What?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, clearing her throat as she thinks back to that afternoon on the bathroom floor. So much has happened since then. “I punched her in the arm and blamed her completely. She’s the one who convinced me to message you in the first place, after all.”

Bellamy chuckles. “I do recall that.”

Clarke nods, ducking her head with a small smile. It feels embarrassed, for some reason, now that she’s offering this moment to him. It’s not really a reaction she herself is proud of. It was very cliched and ridiculous.

“Well, yeah. I told her it was her fault I was knocked up, and then I proceeded to laugh hysterically.”

“Yeah?”

“I did,” Clarke says, shaking her head at the memory. “God, I was a mess. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

“You look like you’ve worked it out, now,” Bellamy offers, and she smiles a little again.

“I’ve been luckier than a lot of people would be in my situation. But — I like to think I’m doing an alright job.” She clears her throat, the embarrassment flaring slightly as she hints at the vulnerability she often feels with her single-parenting. “Anyway, my point is, first reactions aren’t everything. I blamed my best friend for what’s turned out to be the best thing in my world. And you — you didn’t _know,_ Bellamy. I’m not going to hold that response against you, especially not when you came over to apologise as soon as you were able to. That’s what matters, Bellamy. That’s all that matters to me.”

He nods, eyes flicking back to their hands again, and she lets out a shaky breath, not wanting to push the point any further.

“So when did you realise?” She prompts instead, and his huff of laughter is humourless.

“Fuck, not for hours. My mind was just on a loop of what happened, seeing you and hearing what you were saying, and then seeing — _her._ I don’t know what made me remember what you said about trying to contact me, but when I did, I tried calling to explain. After that I just got in the car and hoped I would recognise your apartment building when I saw it. I’m lucky Monty and Nathan even let me up to explain, let alone give me your address.”

“I’m glad they did,” Clarke says, and Bellamy finally looks back at her, smile small and sad and eyes a little glassy with tears.

“I am, too. I’m glad that — well, I’m just grateful you gave me the chance to hear me out. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she responds, knowing he’ll appreciate her acceptance more than an insistence that he doesn’t have to thank her. She squeezes his hand, and he squeezes it back. “Okay, so, do you — do you want anything else tonight, or would you rather we talk properly on Saturday?”

He’s quiet for a minute, and she just lets him think. “Can you tell me about her?” He finally asks, and she can hear the vulnerability in his voice as clear as she can see it in his expression. She wishes she could tell him how much the question means to her, the way it makes her chest swell with warmth, but she doesn’t want to embarrass herself, or him. Instead she smiles and nods.

“Of course,” she says. “Do you want something to drink first?”

“Tea would be great, if you have any?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hops off the couch and heads to the kitchen, Bellamy following like he wants to help in some way. It makes her duck her head with a smile, for how unnecessary it is. She makes them both a drink quickly and they’re back on the couch in a few minutes.

“Okay,” she says, figuring she should start at the beginning. She’s already smiling a little with the memories of those early days. “My first ultrasound was with Raven, just really confirming the pregnancy and making sure it was all normal so far, you know? I was pretty emotional, I think. I mean, I definitely cried, and I kept looking at my first sonogram photo for weeks after the appointment. I’ve still got all of them, on my laptop and in a — Gemma box, kind of? Just stuff of hers that I’ve kept, a lot of photos I told myself I’d make an album from but have never gotten around to actually doing. I can show you them, if you want?”

Bellamy swallows heavily, nods. His voice is quiet when he says “Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Of course.” She manages to find the box quickly, just stacked at the bottom of the book case in the lounge room, and she pulls it onto her lap once she sits back down, finds the picture she’s looking for quickly. “Here,” she says, handing it to Bellamy, watching how his face shifts as he takes it in. “It’s not really much of anything, but it made it feel really real, before I was showing or could feel her.”

“It’s amazing,” Bellamy says, lips pulled into a soft, longing smile, and Clarke swallows down the swell of emotions to keep going.

“Yeah, it was pretty wonderful. I’ve got all the other ones here, too. The dates are on each of them, and on the back I wrote how far along I was as well.” She hands the small stack over to Bellamy and watches as he goes through them all, seeing the little bean grow into an actual baby. “I felt huge by the end of it, even though she came early. And god, she really liked to kick,” she adds with a small laugh. “I was certain she’d become a soccer player. I’ll have to see if she wants to play when she’s a little older. It’ll probably be a good fit for her.”

Bellamy laughs softly, flipping through each photo, and Clarke stays quiet until he’s finished, just letting him take it in. He hands them back carefully, and Clarke’s already got the next few ready.

“I was out Christmas shopping when I first felt a contraction, a few weeks before I was due. I was living at Mum’s then, so I went back there with Raven, and just kind of waited while it all progressed. I remember it being really boring at the beginning, actually,” she says with a laugh, earning one from Bellamy too. “But I think I was actually lucky, compared to a lot of people. It was maybe three or four when I first had a contraction? Mid-late afternoon, anyway, and I was at the hospital at around eleven that night, I think, which is faster than a lot of first births go. I was there for another few hours before she was finally born. Four twenty-three in the morning on the 10th of December.”

She gives him another photo then, Gemma’s first real one. She’s bundled up in a soft towel, face pink and eyes wide, no longer crying, resting on Clarke’s chest. She herself has a blissed out smile on her face, exhaustion and awe written all across her expression as she looks at her daughter. It’s their first photo together, and one of Clarke’s favourites.

He looks at in awe, eyes sweeping the photo for a few long minutes, and once again Clarke doesn’t talk, just watches him as everything settles, as he takes it all in. His eyes crinkle and he lets out a long, quiet breath.

“She already had my eyes,” he finally says, voice rough, and Clarke smiles, feels the way it trembles a little.

“From the moment she was born, yeah,” she confirms, letting herself rest a hand on his forearm, just a comforting touch. “Do you want me to keep going?” She asks, when he just continues to stare at the photo.

“Yes. Please.”

“Okay,” she says, giving his arm a quick squeeze before she continues.

And so she tells him about Gemma, her life in broad brush-strokes. What it was like taking her home for the first time, getting to learn her new baby, learn to be a parent while simultaneously exhausted and completely elated. The unceremonious way she chose Gemma’s name, followed by the first Christmas and New Year. How quickly the first year went by, little stories dotted in about first steps and first words, Gem’s love of babbling and squealing, making all the possible noise she could. The way she used to flash Clarke in public, grabbing at her tops and pulling them down to tell her she was hungry, and how she was dancing as soon as she could keep herself upright for more than five seconds, little arms flailing as she bounced up and down in place.

She tells him about starting back at work, and then re-enrolling in uni part time, being wait listed at daycares for longer than Gemma was even alive. About the little girl’s first birthday and second Christmas, and all the various baby presents she’s gotten from her friends and family, including her favourite toy Occi that Wells bought her after a trip to the aquarium. She runs through some of the ridiculous things her friends have done, Raven’s first use of _little alien,_ and how the name is still being used, said with nothing but absolute, pure affection. The time Jasper bought her a mini keyboard when she was way too young to use it, and how Miller sometimes recites long-winded monologues to her, when nobody else will appreciate them.

She tells him about watching Gemma grow, into her second and now third year, how exciting it’s been to have her talking more, understanding more and learning new things every day. Talks about Gem being a gun on her little scooter now, and how she loves to read books with anyone she can, that she’s learning her colours and numbers, how she sings along to her favourite nursery rhymes.

And then she tells him the smaller things about Gem, the finer details of her personality. How she makes the most adorably frustrated pouty face when she’s fighting sleep, and that she lights up every time she sees a dog. That the swings are her favourite part of the playground at the moment, but that she also loves to give Clarke small heart attacks when she challenges herself on the jungle gym. How she manages to get her hair out of her braids all the time, even though she hates when it’s in her face whenever she’s doing something that requires any concentration. The face that she pulls when she _is_ concentrating, one Clarke’s told is exactly like her own, a flash of scary resemblance that gives no doubt that Gemma’s her daughter.

It’s past midnight by the time she trails off, and she and Bellamy have both turned to face each other on the couch, Gem’s box between them. His smile is soft and wistful, and Clarke lets herself watch him, the quiet end to a few hours of talking, Bellamy processing everything he’s heard tonight. He seemed mostly good throughout all the stories, the little bits and pieces of information she shared, but she could see the sadness there too. Even when he was smiling and laughing, asking questions and looking at photos, she recognised the remorse and the wistfulness.

But that’s to be expected, and overall, she thinks this has helped him, that he’s going to be okay.

He wanted to know about his daughter, and now he does. The rest will come from spending time together, getting to meet her properly, talk to her and cuddle her and learn what she’s like first hand.

“Do you want to see her?” Clarke offers after they’ve been quiet for a few minutes, smiling tiredly when Bellamy’s eyes instantly brighten, the cautious optimism of his expression making her heart swell.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and it’s easier than she expected it would be to answer.

“I’m certain.”

She sees a flood of different emotions run through him with the confirmation, relief and gratitude and nerves and excitement, and she pushes down the way it lights her entire body up. He really wants this, and it’s enough to make her want to fall into him and tell him how much she’s wanted this, from the very beginning. Him with her, wanting to be a dad to their daughter.

Instead, she takes his hand, prompting him to get off the couch with her, and leads him to the second room of their little place.

Gemma’s sound asleep in her crib as Clarke quietly pushes open the door, and Bellamy follows her until they’re both standing in front her. Clarke leans over, brushes her thumb over Gem’s forehead to push away a little blonde curl, before taking her hand back and finding Bellamy’s instead.

He squeezes it immediately, and Clarke glances up to see the tears in his eyes.

“She’s perfect, Clarke,” he whispers in a rough voice, and she remembers at once that it was the exact same though she had the first time she saw her daughter.

“Yeah, she is,” Clarke agrees, giving his hand a squeeze back, and feeling a warmth bloom in her chest, hope that this all going to work out, that they can do this together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) :) :)  
> Do u feel better??  
> Bellarke team is my fave. But now comes the hard(er) part.  
> And can anyone else expect that Clarke is going to try her hardest to keep Bellamy as a strictly platonic co-parent because she doesn't want to mess anything up with her daughter? Hey- me too!  
> Thanks for reading as always guys :) :) (And commenting - hint: comment!!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delay in posting!!!! I will probably post another chapter tomorrow for you guys.  
> In good news, I finished three out of four subjects for the semester!!  
> ALSO! Sorry this is such a weirdly paced fic?? Like every chapter is a different size and different length of time it's kinda weird and I apologise if that's annoying. Hopefully pacing will sort itself out from now on.  
> Hope you guys enjoy the chapter- sorry for the small amount of Bellamy.  
> As always, thanks very much for reading!!

“Are you still free on Saturday?”

“Yeah, I should be.”

“Okay, well if you still want to, we can grab lunch—”

Clarke’s words fall short when Bellamy steps into her space, sliding a hand behind her head and pulling her to him as he leans down and crashes his lips to hers. _No, no, no. This is wrong. So, so wrong._

Still, she responds to him immediately, as though his touch has sparked something within her, her hands curling around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer, her lips opening when he deepens the kiss with his tongue. The spark grows and spreads, the first time she’s felt it in years, that fire that comes from wanting, from _being_ wanted. And god, she wants it. She wants _him,_ and so she keeps him close, even though she knows she shouldn’t.

His tongue meets hers, and it stills feels so familiar, somehow. The softness of his lips, and the smell of him so close, how he tastes when he licks into her mouth, the perfect slide of his tongue, slow at first, and then faster, more desperate as she meets him with it, as her fingers climb into his hair, the same soft curls she remembers. His hands run down her sides, warm and large and perfect, one finding her ass as he gives it a soft squeeze, the other hitching her leg around his hip as he backs her into the front door.

She can feel him hardening in his jeans, and she moans as a burst of arousal swells through her with how perfect it feels against her, where she knows she’s already hot and wet for him.

And _fuck_ this is bad. It’s wrong. So, so wrong.

But Clarke can’t deny that it also feels right, and that’s enough to make her stop.

She breaks away, eyes still closed as she leans her forehead against his. They’re both breathing heavily, and she makes herself pull her fingers from his hair, move her hands to his chest to push him away a little, give them both some space

“Bellamy,” she says, her voice still ridiculously breathy, and she can feel him move a little further back to look at her. She opens her eyes to find him already watching her, gaze intense with more than just lust. “We can’t do this.”

His eyes close again, and his forehead comes down to rest against hers as well, even as he puts her down properly, hands settling much more safely at her waist.

For a few long moments, it’s only the sounds of their breathing between them, but eventually Bellamy speaks up.

“I know,” he says, voice hoarse enough that Clarke has to suppress a shiver. “Fuck, Clarke, I know. I’m — I’m sorry. I can’t believe I — I’m sorry.”

He steps back at that, and Clarke feels his absence immediately, tells herself it’s a good thing.

“It’s okay,” she says, trying a small smile. “It’s not like I stopped you when I should’ve.”

He doesn’t respond, and they watch each other for a few long moments, and _god,_ all she wants to do is pull him back to her, drag him into her room to finish what they started.

But she can’t. This situation is complicated enough, and she can’t make it even more difficult by giving into an urge she knows will just further complicate everything. She can’t do that to her daughter.

So she closes her eyes and lets herself have a deep breath.

When she looks back to Bellamy, he’s obviously tried to compose himself like she has, but she can still see the guilt in his eyes, the crease between his brow belying his uncertainty.“So, Saturday?” He asks, a nervous waver in the question.

“Yeah, of course. We can talk, work out our… situation,” she finishes, trying not to cringe at the word, but Bellamy just chuckles, letting it break the tension.

“Sure. Sounds good, Clarke.” He opens the door for himself, giving her a tight smile. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you then, Bellamy.”

She watches as he leaves for a few seconds, heading down the front steps towards his car, before shutting and locking the front door. And then she turns around to give herself something solid to brace herself against.

“Fuck,” she whispers as she bangs her head back against the door, the feel of his hands and his lips still tingling in his absense.

_ Fuck indeed. _

**

“Baby, we’re gonna have all your aunties and uncles over tonight, okay?”

Gemma hums around a mouthful of porridge she’s feeding - _attempting_ to feed - herself. 

Clarke laughs as she kisses her daughter on the head. 

“I’m gonna put plaits in your hair, okay Gem?”

“Okay!” Her daughter sing songs.

Mornings at the Griffin household are always a mess and a rush, but today’s especially bad with the late start. Bellamy left a little before one, however Clarke didn’t get back to sleep until around two. She was a little… restless after he left, her mind racing with the thought of him, her lips still tingling with the memory of his. So when her seven o’clock alarm went off, she indulged in the snooze function on her phone three times, only to finally get up when her daughter started calling out to her. Which meant she now had to multi-task to drop her daughter off at creche and get to uni on time.

Clarke makes quick work of Gemma’s hair, sighing when she sees the stains on her daughter’s top. Gemma hasn’t quite mastered getting all her food _into_ her mouth, so much as a fifty-fifty placement between her mouth and her clothes, and Clarke, like the bloody idiot she apparently is, forgot to put on a bib when her daughter was eating porridge. _Porridge,_ for god’s sake. 

Clarke helps her finish the rest of her breakfast, getting a few bites for herself before hauling Gemma up to clean her and change her top.

“Do you want the pirate one, the fairy one or the princess one?”

“Pwincess,” her daughter exclaims. Yeah, she’s going through a princess phase.

“Alright, baby girl.” Clarke hands her daughter the top and she puts it on (mostly easily) before running back into the lounge room. 

Clarke finally takes off the towel that she’s been wrapped in for half an hour and pulls on a pair of jeans and a top. It’s already twenty past eight, so she forgoes any more makeup than some concealer and mascara. 

“Gem, come here and mumma will put your shoes on.”

Gemma runs back to her room and collapses on Clarke’s lap in a fit of giggles. Clarke tickles her daughter before she puts the small pair of sandals on her tiny feet.

“There you go, button. You know who loves you?” She asks as she kisses Gemma’s nose.

“Mummy!” Her daughter exclaims, arms going wide as she falls into Clarke with a hug.

Clarke chuckles as she picks her daughter up. “That’s right, baby girl. Mummy’s just gonna grab her bag and then we can go to creche. Does that sound like fun?”

“Yeah!”

“Alright. Pick up Occi,” Clarke tells her daughter as she leans her over into the crib.

Gemma squeals with delight as she hangs from her mum’s arms and sweeps up her toy into a cuddle.

“Come on, button. Time to go.”

They make it out of the house by half past eight and to creche by quarter to. Clarke’s definitely not making it to the start of her nine o’clock lecture.

“Have a good day, button,” Clarke says as she drops her daughter off. “I’ll see you later. I love you lots.”

“Love you, mummy!” 

Clarke smiles, never getting sick of hearing those words. She gives her daughter one last kiss before making her way out of the building and back to her car. As she’s walking through the shared open area she catches Octavia’s eye, standing next to a teacher.  She says something to the woman and after a nod, starts walking towards Clarke.

“Fucking hell,” Clarke mutters as she looks at her watch. She does _not_ have time for this. Clarke keeps walking, hoping Bellamy’s sister will get the message, but it seems the girl doesn’t really care that Clarke’s running late for class, and ends up catching her before she reaches the gate.

“Clarke,” Octavia says as she grabs her arm. Clarke sighs as she turns to face the girl, her eyes still holding that burning rage she had the day before. “Just going to run away from me?” She asks, crossing her arms across her chest and raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. She looks fierce, like a warrior ready for battle - dark jeans and heeled leather boots doing enough to counter the effects of the pale blue blouse that brings out her eyes. And Clarke doesn’t feel ready to face the warrior girl that seems to be on a mission. She kind of wants to sleep for about a week instead. 

“Hi Octavia. Nice to see you again,” Clarke mocks and Octavia scoffs. “No, I’m not running away from you, I’m actually trying to make it to a class which starts in-” she looks at her watch and sighs “-five minutes.”

Octavia levels her with an unimpressed glare. “Well, you’re definitely not going to make it.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, already very over the exchange. She doesn’t want to think badly of the girl- she’s obviously not a bad person, Clarke knows that. It’s just a little difficult to be level headed and understanding when on the receiving end of her anger. “Is that all?”

Octavia’s jaw tightens and twitches in a way that reminds Clarke of Bellamy. “ _No,_ that’s not _all_. I don’t know what the hell is going on because my stupid ass brother won’t tell me anything, but I swear to god, you will _pay_ for the shit you’ve put him through,” she warns. 

Clarke narrows her eyes. What. The. _Fuck_. 

Okay, she gets the whole protective sibling thing, she really does. Wells is like a brother to her, and if anyone hurt him she’d be a fucking menace to them. Plus, she has a daughter - so she really, _really_ gets the _fuck anyone who does anything to the person I love_  attitude. But really? Octavia’s going to make her _pay?_ What does that even mean? Is she going to axe murder her or something? And why the fuck hasn’t Bellamy said anything to his sister yet? Stupid ass. Stupid attractive ass - _god… So not the point, Clarke._  

So, yes. Clarke gets it. She’s glad Bellamy has a sister that’s there for him, that’ll be on his side. But right now she’s tired and overworked (as any single mother is) and running late. She doesn’t have time for this shit.

“I suggest that you talk to your brother before accusing me of things you don’t know about. If you had, maybe you’d have realised that we talked yesterday,” Clarke says evenly. “I’m happy to discuss anything you want, but I think it’d be best if he was there as well. And I’d appreciate if you didn’t try to corner me when I’m dropping off my daughter at creche.” 

Octavia narrows her eyes, but after a beat relaxes, releasing a breath.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she admits, rolling her eyes at Clarke’s raised eyebrows. “It’s not exactly fair of me to corner you here. I just - ” she sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m just really worried about Bell.”

A pang of sympathy runs through Clarke’s body as she remembers what Bellamy told her about the pair - they only had each other growing up. She can’t blame his sister for a shitty reaction, just like she couldn’t blame Bellamy.

“It’s okay,” Clarke says, deflating as well. “Look, this isn’t a situation I ever thought I’d be in, but - but, I’m glad I am, as awkward as it is.” Octavia raises her eyebrows and nods, prompting Clarke to continue. “I’m seeing Bellamy on Friday to work some stuff out, but I’d be happy to talk to you both sometime soon. Maybe on the weekend if you’re free?”

Octavia scrutinises her for a few moments, perhaps trying to read Clarke’s intentions. “Okay,” she says slowly. “That’d be nice.”

Clarke nods. “Alright, well… I’ll text you and we can work something out,” she says as she gets out her phone and hands it to the girl. 

She types in her number and saves the contact before handing it back to Clarke.

“She’s really his?” She asks.

“Yeah, she is.”

The bell for the school rings, ending their conversation and reminding Clarke that she definitely won’t be making it to uni any time soon.

“Shit, I better go. Sorry for making you late,” Octavia says, a little sheepish. It’s a vast contrast to the girl with venom in her words a few minutes ago. 

“That’s alright. Just a lecture,” Clarke smiles. “I can catch up on it.”

Octavia nods before awkwardly pulling Clarke into a hug. Clarke laughs as she hugs the girl back for a few semi-uncomfortable seconds.

“I guess we’re like… family now or something?” Octavia says as she pulls away.

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Alright, I, uh - I better be going. Have a nice day, Clarke.”

“You too, Octavia.”

The girl offers a small smile before turning around and jogging back to the building as Clarke turns in the opposite direction to make her way to her car.

She leans her head on the steering wheel when she gets inside, breathing in three deep breaths in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She really needs a game plan. Like really, _really_ needs one. 

Right now everything’s confusing and so goddamn messy. She can’t stop thinking about the kiss, which is so incredibly unhelpful for her situation. It’d be  cool if her body stopped betraying her and stopped being attracted to the father of her child. Like, really cool. Can that happen? Stat?

Clarke sighs as she gets her phone out, sending two messages, the first to Bellamy and the second to the group.

_Can you please talk to your sister?_

_Sorry about last night. Dinner at mine tonight, I’ll order take out. Indian?_

She tucks away her phone and starts driving to uni, accepting that one: she’s not going to make it to the first twenty minutes of her lecture; and two: Bellamy Blake has made her life _so_ much harder (and probably also so much better).

**

“Come in, come in, come in and give me your money,” Clarke hollers to Emori, Murphy, Monty and Miller as the pile into her house. “I ordered so much Indian food it’s ridiculous.”

“All I care about is when it gets here,” Murphy mutters, handing over some cash.

“Thank you,” Clarke sing songs, happily taking the money from her friends.

“Why are you like this?” Miller asks. “Why is she like this?” He directs the question to Wells, Raven and Wick, who are sitting at the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clarke.

“She’s been like this since we came in,” Wick supplies. “It’s kinda creeping me out.”

“Yeah, babe, I’m getting kinda worried,” Raven adds.

“I’m fine,” Clarke drawls, grabbing some drinks from the fridge. She turns around to find everyone staring at her disbelievingly. “I’m gonna grab Gem.” She expertly dodges their gaze and walks out of the kitchen, humming the tune of the lullaby she sometimes sings Gemma to sleep with.

The truth is she isn’t fine. Not in an _everything’s awful, my life sucks_ kind of way. More in a _my life is in shambles, I kissed Bellamy Blake and I am overflowing with nervous energy_ kind of way. She’s telling her friends everything tonight which basically solidifies Bellamy’s return to her life.

It’s not as though she hasn’t accepted that he’s here, because she has. She’s seen him and talked to him and _kissed_ him, for god’s sakes. He’s told her he’ll be there for Gemma and she believes him, so yeah, she’s accepted it. 

But telling her friends is a big step. She loves them - like, a lot - but they can be overbearing. In a good way. Mostly. Which just means that once she tells them, they’re going to have lots of opinions ( _god, what’re they going to say about the kiss?_ ) and will probably want to interrogate Bellamy on where he’s been and how he plans to be part of her and Gemma’s lives. 

Clarke’s going to have to mediate a whole lot of interactions, and yeah, she’s pretty nervous about how everything’s going to go.

Hence singing greetings and awkward humming. 

“Aw, Mel, you’re so great,” she says to her friend as she finds her playing with Gemma in the little girl’s room.

“Don’t I know it, Clarke,” Mel says with a wink. “Come on bub, let’s go see everyone, yeah?”

Gemma makes noise (that’s the only way to describe it, honestly) as she runs up to Clarke, lifting her arms up. With a sigh Clarke hauls her daughter onto her hip and walks them back to the kitchen. 

“Oh, everyone’s here,” she sing songs again, finding the remainder of the group in the living area.

“See: weird,” Murphy tells Monroe and Harper as Jasper steals Gemma from Clarke. “She’s all happy and stuff.”

“I’m always happy,” Clarke frowns.

Monroe and Murphy scoff in unison and Clarke pokes her tongue out. 

“Alright everyone,” Clarke announces loudly. “Food’ll be here in fifteen. This is an apology for ditching last nights plans. Drinks are in the fridge and on me.”

Her friends cheer, so Clarke’s sure all is forgiven. 

Soon enough the food arrives and Clarke’s nervous energy picks up it’s pace. She’s pretty sure she’s vibrating by the time they finish eating, voice going to an almost inhuman pitch when someone asks her what’s wrong.

“Jesus, fine,” she groans after Wells asks the question for the fifth time. “I have to tell you guys something, but it has to wait until Gem’s down.”

Wells frowns, concern etched in his dark features. “Are you okay, Clarke?” She glares and he sighs. “I just mean, this isn’t something I need to prepare myself for, is it?”

Clarke takes his hand, tracing the lines on his palm like they did when they were kids. “No,” she says softly. “It’s-” she releases a breath. “It’s fine. I’m fine and you don’t need to worry.” He doesn’t look convinced so she squeezes his hand. “I’m serious, Wells.”

“If you’re sure,” he says quietly.

“I am,” Clarke assures him. 

She looks around to find her friends lost in conversation. Raven and Wick are attempting to build towers with Gemma’s blocks as she knocks them down with waving arms, giggling every time they topple over. Murphy and Emori are sharing some sort of moment, a rare genuine smile pulling on Murphy’s lips as he gazes fondly at her. Mel, Maya and Harper are laughing together, gasping for air as they look at something on a phone, and Jasper, Monroe, Miller and Monty are having a debate about god knows what, Monroe appearing to be winning as the smirk Clarke knows all too well is plastered on her face. 

Clarke smiles as she looks around at her family, and some of her nervous energy dissipates. She knows that telling them will make things more difficult. They’re all so fiercely protective of Gemma, and she loves them to death for that. So she understands that they might be unsure of Bellamy’s sudden return, in the same way that Octavia is unsure of Clarke. 

When she sees it’s almost seven she looks over to Gemma again and sees the familiar signs of her fighting sleep.  
“Help me put her down?” She asks Wells as she stands up.

“I’d love to,” Wells says with a smile.

“Time to say goodnight, everyone,” she calls out to the group as she picks Gemma up. 

The group call out a chorus of goodnights and quiet down as Clarke walks Gemma to the bathroom. It’s a familiar routine, and Clarke’s glad she doesn’t have to remind her friends to keep the noise down once Gemma’s off to bed. She’s so central to their lives that it’s second nature to them. It’s a thought that makes Clarke so happy, and so incredibly grateful that she has them all in her life.

Wells brushes Gemma’s teeth and reads her a bedtime story with Clarke before she sings a lullaby to settle her. 

Gemma drifts off to sleep in the dark room, slightly illuminated by a night-light, as Clarke and Wells gaze down at her. It always settles Clarke’s nerves; watching her daughter sleep so peacefully. 

She tucks herself under Wells’ arm and hugs his torso. “Bellamy’s back,” she says quietly. She looks up to find him staring at her, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, before he nods, understanding dawning on him.

“That’s why you’ve been off.”

“Yeah,” Clarke sighs.

“You want me to kick his ass?”

Clarke grins as she tightens her grip around her best friend. “That’d be great,” she laughs. “My brother and my…Bellamy-” she shakes her head. “God, this is weird.”

Wells chuckles and kisses the top of her head. “Your life’s like a walking drama.”

“Right?” Clarke exclaims as she looks back up to him. They grin stupidly at each other for a few moments before she sighs, looking back to her daughter. “I’m glad you’re with me, Wells.”

“You’re such a sap. You know that, yeah? I feel like I should let you know.”

Clarke punches him in the arm with a laugh. “I know. It’s a mum thing, I swear.”

“Nah,” Wells shakes his head. “It’s a Clarke thing.”

Clarke looks back up to him with a teasing smile. “Now who’s the sap?”

He rolls his eyes and pokes her in the stomach. “Shut up.”

They stand there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in such a familiar way. It reminds her of her father’s funeral. She remembers how they held each other that day. He was her lifeline; the warmth of his body surrounding her the only thing that kept her standing. She remembers how he placed a daffodil in her hair, just like her dad would. “A flower as bright as you hair,” her dad would say every time, a phrase that Wells repeated on the day. She remembers how he stood next to her when she spoke, how she held his hand so hard she thought she might break it. She remembers how he dressed up in a light blue shirt and khakis, let her put a daffodil behind his ear, as she wore her pink, yellow and white flowery dress; knowing Jake would want them to wear bright clothes. She remembers how he never gave up on her, even as she pushed him away. She remembers how he enveloped her in a hug when she finally came back to him, months later, a string of apologies falling from her lips. “There’s nothing to apologise for,” he told her as she cried on his shoulder. He was her lifeline then, and continued to be in the years that followed. 

Clarke sniffles and wipes away a stray tear, looking back up to Wells with a smile. “Time to face the music.”

He squeezes her shoulder and turns her around, leading them back to her friends. As if they know she’s about to announce something big (honestly, she can’t say she’s been very good at hiding her weirdness), they stop talking when she comes back. 

“Alright,” she sighs as she collapses onto an armchair. It’s been a really emotionally draining few days. “This feels super weird and formal, but I’d rather tell you all in one go.”

“Are you dying?” Jasper asks, seeming maybe half serious.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “No. Now, number one rule for what I’m about to say. No interrupting until I’m done. Got it?” She eyes everyone and after she sees them nod, she releases a slow breath. “Bellamy Blake is back in LA.” And then noise. She holds up a hand - a ridiculous mum move she’s picked up - to silence them. “Literally what did I just say? Can I speak?”

“Go ahead, Griffin,” Monroe responds.

“Okay,” she starts. And she recounts the story of how she bumped into Lincoln, how he mentioned Octavia - once again, a look of understanding passes through all her friends at the name -, how she then ran into Bellamy - adding in the statement that the universe obviously hates her and asking her friends if they believe in karma - and proceeded to have a tension filled two minutes with him and later Echo. 

True to their word, none of her friends interrupt, so she continues on to talk about her lunch meeting with Bellamy - again, she refuses to call it a date (Raven snorts but doesn’t say anything) - and what the pair talked about. Finally, that brings her to yesterday.

“So I was planning on telling you guys this last night, but I, uh - I wasn’t really feeling up for it.” She rubs her hands over her face and releases a long breath, preparing herself to talk about an encounter she doesn’t particularly want to relive. “I was picking up Gem from creche and got a call from uni. Oh - I got my placement by the way,” she sidetracks. “That’s not the point, but it's also cool. So anyway, I got a call from uni and ducked out to take it. Bellamy was there,” she sighs, recalling the way he teased her, the last moment he had before his entire life changed. “He was picking up his sister - she’s a student teacher at Mt. Weather Elementary - and came over to say hi.”

Clarke pauses, collecting herself before recounting how horrible it got after that. “I was freaking out, obviously. I told him I was sorry and he was really confused. Then Fox brought Gem out and she ran to me, calling me mummy. He, um - he was pretty shocked after that. He got the picture that Gemma was his, but he didn’t say anything. He looked so-”, Clarke chokes on her words, shaking her head as she tries to rid her mind on the utterly devastated look on his face. She clears her throat before continuing. 

“Octavia ended up coming over to us and started talking to me and Gem. She asked how old Gemma was and when I told her he just,” she sighs. “He just seemed to break. Octavia caught on, so I guess Bellamy told her enough that she knew him being Gem’s father was plausible.” She pauses again, looking down at her hands wringing in her lap. “And then he left. So that’s why I wasn’t exactly feeling up for anything last night. He ended up going to Monty and Miller’s place, thinking I might still live there.” She looks up between the two boys. “Do you?”

Monty nods and smiles. “He came a bit before nine. He looked pretty terrible when we let him up, telling us that he fucked up over and over. Nate works with him, so I guess there was some level of trust, and Clarke wasn’t answering her phone, so we ended up giving him her address.”

“He’s a good guy,” Miller adds. “And he wanted to apologise, so we thought it was okay.”

Clarke smiles. “I’m glad you did. Really,” she adds when she can see the two boys’ guilty faces.

“We did threaten him before he left though,” Miller adds, as if to make amends for his actions. 

Clarke laughs, “Bellamy told me that. Apparently you’re very scary, Monty,” she grins at the blushing boy. “Thank you,” she tells them earnestly. _For everything_. They both smile and nod, so she knows they understand. “He thought I didn’t want him to know her,” she continues. “That’s why he just left, and that’s why he came to see me again. To apologise. So we ate some dinner, I let him apologise, and then I told him about Gemma,” she tells them, a sad smile gracing her face. She planned to tell them about the kiss, but she can’t bring herself to say the words. She’ll tell Raven later, but right now this is all they need to know. “And now we’re here,” she finishes.

“Wow,” Jasper breaks the silence.

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees. “ _Wow._ I’m having dinner with him tomorrow night to sort some stuff out, and I agreed to see Octavia some time soon, but that’s all I have planned, really.” After a few moments of silence. “You can react now.”

“Just…be careful with him, Clarke,” Monroe tells her seriously (she never uses Clarke’s first name). “We just don’t want you to get hurt. Or Gemma.”

Clarke smiles and gets up, going over to the couch to sit on and hug her friend. “I promise.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst, Griffin,” Monroe groans as she pushes Clarke off her lap. 

Clarke laughs as she lays across Raven, Wick and Monroe, looking around the rest of the group. “I’ll be okay, guys. I promise. And you can meet him…again some time soon,” she adds to placate them. 

It seems to work, because they let her off relatively easy. She knows that they’re just concerned, so she’s not upset at the general distrust of Bellamy from most of them. It’s only really Miller and Murphy that seem to trust him (well, and Clarke), but that makes sense, seeing as they know him better than the others. But trust will come with time, and she’s almost certain Bellamy will be able to win them over.

It’s important to her that he does. They’re her family, and she guesses he kind of is now, too, in a weird way. She doesn’t want to have to choose or split her attentions between two groups that don’t get along. But that’s for another day. For tonight, she’s just happy to have the truth out there for all her friends. She feels lighter with the reveal over, a weight lifting off her chest knowing she doesn’t have to hide anything anymore. In fact, she feels better than she has since first running into Bellamy at the pharmacy. 

There’s just one little thing that’s still playing on her mind -

“Bellamy and I kissed,” Clarke tells Raven as they clean the kitchen, the only people remaining are Wick, Wells and Mel in the lounge.

Raven pauses from washing cutlery, turning to look at Clarke with a raised eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

Clarke sighs, hiding her face in her hands. “Yes,” she says, the word muffled in her skin. Maybe if she keeps her hands over her face, she can pretend she doesn’t know the exact expression Raven’s making.

A smirk, her thoughts are confirmed when she lowers her hands, amusement dancing across her face. “Well,” she prompts.

“He kissed me,” Clarke begins, pausing before she adds, “I didn’t exactly stop him for a while.” She shakes her head, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It was so fucking stupid.”

“You were probably thinking that you haven’t been laid in three years and there’s a hot guy you like who's making out with you. Give yourself a break, Clarke.”

“I can’t, Raven,” Clarke cuts her off, harsher than she was expecting. She’s not angry and Raven - of course she isn’t. She’s angry at herself for letting this happen. She looks up to her friend, Raven's expression having changed from a smirk to one of understanding. “I can’t give myself a break because I’m not just looking out for me. Every decision I make affects Gemma. And I can’t just act like a twenty five year old that wants to get laid by this great, good looking guy. Because if I do, I’m fucking shit up for my own daughter. I just-” she shakes her head and wipes away a stray tear. “I can’t let that happen,” she whispers.

Raven pulls her into a hug, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s back as Clarke lets silent tears stream down her face. Her hands are still wet from the sink, leaving damp spots as she rubs Clarke’s back soothingly.

“I know, babe. I know,” she soothes. “You’re going to be okay. Gemma’s going to be okay.”

Clarke nods into her friend’s shoulder, trying to gain back some of her composure. She’s able to calm down with Raven’s help, accepting that yes, it was a bad idea to kiss Bellamy, but she can’t exactly do anything about it now. It’s in the past.

All she can do is make sure it doesn’t happen again. She needs to talk to him about _them_ as well, now. How they’ll work together, and not just how he’ll fit into Gemma’s life. Fuck things are going to get awkward.

Once everyone has left she shoots Bellamy a quick text to confirm plans for tomorrow, reading the conversation they had earlier in the day.

_Can you please talk to your sister?_

_Fuck. What did she do?_

_Just talk to her, okay? She’s worried about you._

_Of course. Sorry._

_About everything._

_It’s fine, Bellamy. We’ll talk tomorrow._

 

 _Dinner at my place tomorrow? Is six okay? If you’re not_  
_comfortable, I can have someone babysit Gemma and_  
_we can so somewhere to talk? Let me know._

_That sounds great, Clarke. Can I come around earlier?  
Only if that’s okay with you, of course._

_That’s fine, Bell. I’m home all day, so just let me know  
when you’ll be around._

_Okay. Thanks, princess. See you tomorrow._

_Sleep well, Bellamy._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was kind of a filler chapter. I hope you still enjoyed, though.  
> Next: Bellamy/Gemma first interactions. Expect kinda awkward very fluffy times.  
> The pace is probably gonna pick up a little after this cause there aren't so many fully described convos I want to write.  
> Anywaaaaaay, hope you enjoyed. Expect an update within the next 24 hours :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much fluff ahead.

**_Bellamy_ **

_Are you or Gemma allergic to anything?_

_No. Why?_

_Just wondering_

**_Miller_ **

_Just a warning, Bellamy just asked me about you._

_And…?_

_He came up during my lunch break and said “Sorry if this_  
_is inappropriate at work but do you know what Clarke’s_  
_favourite food is?_ ”  

_Oh god. He asked if me or Gem were allergic to anything  
and he’s coming around for dinner tonight._

_Poor guy. He was so nervous asking me. Anyway, I told_  
_him that the key to your heart is good old fashioned  
home _ _made pizza._

_Thanks. Very helpful. Picture me rolling my eyes at you._

_Love you too, Clarke :)_

**_Bellamy_ **

_You don’t have to cook me dinner_

_:)_

_Seriously?_

_:) :)_

 

_Is it alright if I come around now? Just got off work._

_Sure. We’re just at the park right now. What time do  
you think you’ll make it over?_

_Half an hour?_

_Okay. We’ll be home by 4.15 :)_

_Sounds good, princess._

Clarke sighs as she reads the latest text from Bellamy. The word is unnerving; _princess._ It’s a reminder of their relationship _before_ , and once again, it’s completely unhelpful when Clarke’s trying very hard to think of Bellamy in a strictly co-parent way.

She can’t stop thinking about that bloody kiss, and while she’s sure that she’s got _some_ self control, there’s a tiny part of her that’s singing _give in, give in, give in._ She looks at her daughter to silence it, and each time it’s a reminder as to who is most important in this situation. She’ll need to talk to Bellamy about it; make sure he understands that.

“Come on, baby girl,” Clarke calls out to her daughter. “We gotta get home for one of mummy’s friends.”

Gemma giggles and makes a run for the steps to the slide on the playground. It’s a routine Clarke’s very familiar with. She makes her way up the platform to the slide and shrieks with laughter as she slides down and is hoisted up by Clarke at the end. Clarke tickles her as she walks them back to the pram, greeted with squeals of delight she’ll never get sick of. 

They’re able to make it home a few minutes before Bellamy arrives, the journey home longer than Clarke anticipated when Gemma said "wanna walk" and wouldn't let Clarke put her in the pram. Gemma’s already messed up the living room with an array of toys by the time he's knocking on the door, and Clarke swings it open, a little out of breath from chasing her daughter around, to find a very uncomfortable (adorable) looking Bellamy with a bunch of bags full of groceries.

“Bell,” she sighs, trying to hide the fond smile dancing on her lips. “You really didn’t have to.”

He huffs out a laugh and grins. “Will you let me in?” He says, holding up the shopping bags. “I’m man enough to admit they’re getting heavy.”

She bites her lip, stifling a laugh and steps out of his way. “In you come,” she says as she takes a few of the bags. “Wow, you really went all out.”

“I didn’t know what you guys liked,” he says as he follows her into the kitchen.

She starts unpacking the groceries as she talks to him. “So I normally put Gem down around seven and just let her play before dinner. I was thinking we could talk after I put her down?”

“Yeah, uh - sounds good.”

She turns around after placing some cheese in the fridge to find him shuffling on his feet, hands wringing in front of him. He looks nothing like the confident man she knows him to be. Clarke smiles and places what she hopes is a reassuring hand on his arm, squeezing it so he looks at her. 

“You tell me whatever you’re comfortable with and we’ll work with it, okay? I don’t want you to feel rushed.”

“It’s not that,” he says as he looks to the lounge room. It’s an open living space, so they can see and hear Gemma playing. “It’s just - this is the first time I’m really going to meet her, you know?” He looks at her, so earnest, and she nods understandingly. “I mean, what if - what if she doesn’t like me?” He asks quietly, voice laced with so much emotion as his gaze settles back on her - _their_ \- daughter. 

“Bellamy,” she says, squeezing his arm in the hopes that he’ll look back to her, see how sincere her words are. “It’ll come with time.” He turns to face her, brows crinkling in the middle, eyes wide with worry. “But you have to take the first step to get there. She’s _going_ to like you. I promise you that, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, releasing a deep breath.

“Okay,” she repeats, releasing a deep breath of her own. “Are you right to meet her or do you want a few minutes?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, princess,” he says, such sincerity in the words. 

“You’re welcome. Now come on,” she leads him to the other side of the room where her daughter’s playing with her colourful blocks. “Hey, baby girl,” she says with a smile. She sits down opposite Gemma and nods for Bellamy to do the same. “This is mummy’s friend Bellamy. Can you say ‘hello Bellamy’?”

“Hello, Bellme,” Gemma repeats happily, waving to him with a smile.

“Hi, Gemma,” Bellamy replies tentatively, eyes wide and a little glassy. He blinks away the unshed tears and takes a deep breath. “What’re you playing with?”

“Blocks,” she answers, holding one up as evidence.

Bellamy chuckles, and Clarke watches on with a swelling heart. “That sounds like fun.”

“Here,” Clarke says as she grabs some for Bellamy. “She loves the destruction side of playing blocks, so if you build a tower she’ll happily knock it down for you. Raven and Wick get a little annoyed sometimes, don’t they, button?”

Gemma giggles guiltily as she stacks a few blocks for herself.

Bellamy smiles and nods once. “Alright, princess.” He builds a little tower, Gemma quickly gaining interest once he has more than five stacked on top of each other, and lets her push it down. He grins stupidly when she laughs, and Clarke’s heart tugs knowing that it’s the first time he’s really heard the sound. 

They play for a while, moving on from building blocks to the incredibly annoying little keyboard Jasper bought her (Clarke death glared him for a few days). Bellamy doesn’t seem to mind, just laughs along with Gemma as she hits random keys to make awful tunes. 

It’s going really well by the time they need to start dinner. Gemma’s always been pretty good with new people - happy as long as they’re willing to play with her and give her whatever she wants (something Clarke feels Bellamy will be very guilty of) - but she seems especially smitten with Bellamy, to which Clarke is sighing a relieved breath. 

“And Bellamy’s favourite animal is a lion, Gem. Just like yours,” she tells her daughter as she sets up some space for her to draw on the kitchen counter. Bellamy looks up from where he’s chopping up mushroom, surprised by the comment; maybe because she remembers the minute detail from a day at the zoo three years ago, and definitely because his daughter shares his favourite animal. He looks between the two girls on the opposite side of the bench, a genuine smile tugging on his lips as he gazes fondly at Gemma. “Can you tell Bellamy what sound a lion makes?”

Gemma roars, putting her hands up as if she’s retracting claws, and it’s so adorable that it still makes Clarke grin goofily every time she does it. Bellamy mirrors the expression she’s sure she has, and they stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments. _Look at what we made,_ Clarke thinks as she gazes at him. She thinks he’s thinking something similar. 

“Mummy juice!” Gemma demands, breaking Clarke out of her haze.

Clarke gives Bellamy a pointed look - _I told you she loves juice_ \- and fills up a cup for her daughter. “Just one cup, button,” she tells her daughter as she hands it to her, kissing the top of her head as she starts scribbling on paper in a rainbow of colours. 

Clarke moves to help Bellamy prepare their meal, but he shrugs her off and points to the bar stool with a _no discussion_ look. She rolls her eyes but does as she’s told, hiding a smile in a similar manner that she’d been doing all night. It’s been a long while since she’s had someone cook for her in her own home.

“What other animals can you do, Gem?” Clarke prompts. “What about an elephant?”

Gemma makes a trumpeting sound, bringing her arm up to her face like a trunk. 

Bellamy laughs, his face splitting into a boyish grin. “What about a dog?” He asks.

“Ruff ruff ruff ruff,” Gemma supplies, and so it continues. Clarke and Bellamy move on from animals to the alphabet and then to body parts.

“Please don’t teach my daughter the word weenus,” Clarke laughs, shoving Bellamy’s raised arm away as he prepares to display the offending skin to Gemma. “It’s gross.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Clarke,” Bellamy mock chastises, the smirk she knows all too well gracing his face. 

She rolls her eyes and stretches over the bench to flick his ear. “Shut up. It’s just a gross word. Like the word moist.” The grin he flashes her is devilish, such a cheekiness to it that she can’t help but grin back. “Seriously, _moist?_ ”she chastises. "I'm disappointed Bellamy."

_Fuck. Am I really flirting about about the words weenus and moist? Oh, wait, double fuck. Am I flirting? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Stop flirting, stop flirting, stop flirting._

Instead of responding further, she steals some paper from Gemma and starts drawing along with her. 

Gemma continues to look to Clarke for reassurance and lots of cuddles (Clarke thinks it’s a possessive thing), but seems to genuinely enjoy Bellamy’s company. 

She helps him arrange everything on the pizza, and he assists her in making a smiley faced one using mushrooms and capsicum. (It’s the one Bellamy ends up eating, because while it’s cute (and kinda creepy once baked) it’s not actually good pizza technique, and he insists its his fault). She tells Clarke “airplane” and is delighted when Bellamy’s arms extend to a much greater height than her mum’s, and burrows into his chest with squeals and giggles when he tickles her.

Bellamy looks completely blown away by her. He already seems so comfortable with Gemma, and Clarke knows it must almost be muscle memory playing with a child, having looked after his sister for so long. But he closes his eyes briefly every time she says his name, a look of utter disbelief crossing his face for a few seconds before he smiles to Clarke and then to their daughter. His eyes brim with tears when she snuggles into his chest for the first time, and he grins stupidly every time she laughs - which is a lot. So Clarke knows how much this is affecting him; how much he’s cherishing these first few moments.

Clarke and Bellamy talk easily as they eat dinner - he asks her about uni and she asks him about work - and he helps Gemma cut up the pizza in tiny pieces. Gemma answers questions when she can - getting stumped when he asks how old she is -, happily performs botched versions of the _ABCs_ and _twinkle twinkle little star,_ and offers random interruptions of sounds. 

Once they’ve finished dinner, he cleans up the kitchen while she cleans up her daughter. 

“Here, baby,” she says to her daughter as she hands over some pyjamas. “Put these on. We’ll go say goodnight to Bellamy and then mummy will read you a story, okay?”

“Okay, mummy,” Gemma responds sleepily. Clarke helps her put on the _Black Widow_ pyjamas and follows her when she runs back into the living area.

“Read book,” Gemma demands as she pulls Bellamy by his hand towards her bedroom.

“Please,” Clarke adds with a soft smile, heart hammering in her chest as she sees her daughter interacting so comfortably with Bellamy already. 

“Please, Gemma amends.

“You don’t have to,” Clarke tells Bellamy softly once he reaches her. “I’m happy to put her down.”

“Nah, it’s alright, princess,” he tells her with a goofy grin. “Do you want to pick a book, Gemma?” He asks as he and Clarke settle on the little couch in Gemma’s bedroom, Gemma running to the stack of books by her crib.

“Okay, get ready for this,” Clarke sighs, knowing what’s to come.

Gemma runs back, waving the familiar picture book to Bellamy before Clarke lifts her onto her lap.

“ _The Paper Bag Princess,_ ” he grins, half a smirk ghosting on his mouth. “Very fitting,” is his only comment before he begins. “ _Elizabeth was a beautiful princess. She lived in a castle and had expensive princess clothes.”_ He looks pointedly to Clarke with a smirk and she rolls her eyes, “ _She was going to marry a prince named Ronald,”_ and so he continues. He changes his voice for each of the characters, and Clarke has to smother a laugh at the high-pitched rendition of Elizabeth. “ _‘Ronald,’ said Elizabeth,_ ” he finishes, “ _‘your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat. You look like a real prince, but you are a bum.’”_ Gemma giggles wildly as she always does. _“They didn’t get married after all_. The end.” 

“Yay,” Clarke cheers softly as she claps her hands, Gemma following suit. “Thank you for reading to us, Bellamy.”

“Fank you, Bellme,” Gemma agrees. 

“You’re very welcome, princess Clarke and princess Gemma,” he grins, winking at Clarke with the words. 

“Alright, button. Time for sleep,” Clarke tells her daughter. “Can you give Bellamy a kiss and say goodnight?”

Gemma leans over and places a wet kiss on Bellamy’s cheek. “G’night, Bellme,” she says sleepily, the words slurring together as she curls back into Clarke’s side.

“Goodnight, Gemma,” he says, only above a whisper, and when Clarke looks at him he’s brushing away an unshed tear, looking at Gemma in complete awe. 

Clarke smiles as she stands up with her daughter and puts her to bed. She turns off the overhead light and switches on the little night light. 

“Night, baby,” she whispers to the already half asleep girl. 

“Night, mummy,” she mumbles back as she snuggles into her blankets, cuddling Occi.

Clarke and Bellamy leave Gemma’s room quietly and head back to the kitchen. 

“Cuppa?” She asks.

“Please,” Bellamy smiles. “I, uh, bought some stuff to make you dessert if you’d like.”

“You really didn’t have to do that, Bellamy.”

“I know,” he sighs, “Would you believe me if I told you I wanted to?”

“Yeah, alright,” Clarke relents.

“Okay, good,” he smiles, picking up the remaining shopping bag. “Chocolate fondant or lemon delicious pudding?”

“Oh, jeez,” Clarke laughs. “Um, lemon delicious, please.”

He nods and unpacks the necessary ingredients before turning on the oven. 

“Where’d you learn to cook?”

“Uh, my mum, I guess,” he answers as he looks through her cupboards, pulling out a grater with an _aha_. “I’m a lot better with cakes and desserts. Octavia always had a sweet tooth,” he flashes Clarke a grin as he begins to grate a lemon.

“So you don’t need a recipe?” He swats her hand away as she reaches for the butter. 

“Nah, all up here,” he says as he taps his temple twice. “The amount of times I had to make this for O, it’s pretty much burned into my brain.”

Clarke laughs and they fall into a comfortable silence, only breaking it when he asks where certain utensils are.

“See, if you'd let me help,” Clarke teases.

“Shush,” he scolds as he pours the mixture (which he didn’t let Clarke stir) into the ramekins she pulled out for him. 

“So how’d you find today?” She asks once the lemon delicious puddings are safely baking away in the oven. 

They’re back on the couch now, facing each other, both holding a fresh cup of tea. 

“Good,” he decides quietly. “She’s amazing, Clarke,” the sad smile she’s becoming well versed with gracing his face again. “You’ve done a really incredibly job with her.”

She ducks her head, hiding her smile before looking back to him. “Thanks. I get pretty nervous about it- single mum and all.” His face flashes with guilt and she finds herself mentally berating the words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”, she sighs, not really knowing how to finish that sentence. It’s not like it’s not true; she _has_ been a single mum for two and a half years. “I’m sorry,” she just repeats.

Bellamy shakes his head and sighs. “It’s not your fault. Just… hard to hear.” 

“I know,” she says, worrying her bottom lip. “Look, this is a difficult situation…obviously. But we’ll work through it. You’re here now and I trust that you’ll be here to stay. It’s just going to take time for everything to settle.”

He leans the side of his head on the back of the couch and studies her. “You have it so together,” he says eventually.

She barks a laugh and shakes her head. “Bellamy, I seriously don’t. I have no idea what I’m doing. There’s no guide book to follow or anyone I know that can offer me advice. I’m just trying to do what feels right, and to me that means you spending time with your daughter.”

“Okay,” he nods, “So I guess we should come up with a plan?” 

“Yeah, I agree.” She quickly gets up to find the notepad she’s already worked on. “What?” She asks when she settles back on the couch, Bellamy looking amused as he gazes at the list of things she’s written.

“Just well prepared,” he teases fondly, shaking his head a little.

“Shut up,” she grumbles. “Okay. This is probably going to get awkward, but it has to be done.” Bellamy nods so she continues, looking at the first bullet point she’s written down. “What are your thoughts on a paternity test?”

Bellamy releases a slow breath, “Really diving straight in there, princess. Look, I don’t need one, really. I trust you, Clarke,” he tells her sincerely, “and she looks enough like me that it’d be stupid to deny anything.”

“But,” she prompts.

“ _But,_ I think O will want one. I don’t exactly have to listen to her, but she’s just looking out for me, so I’ll get it if she wants one. I think it’ll help her accept everything.”

Clarke nods, understanding completely. “It’s okay, Bell,” she says, offering a smile. “I’m not offended or anything. It’s probably a good idea to do it now so there’re no issues later on. I just thought I’d ask to see what your thoughts were.” Bellamy nods so she continues. “Speaking of your sister,” he groans, making her smile a little. “Have you spoken to her?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “We had dinner last night and I told her everything.” Clarke raises her eyebrows, an unspoken question she doesn’t want to ask but wants to know the answer to on the tip of her tongue. “Well not _everything_ ,” he amends when he sees her expression. It’s odd that they can communicate like that so easily, without even needing to exchange words. It’s something she knows will be good for them - communication is key in their situation. “I’m sorry she cornered you. But from what I heard, you handled yourself well,” he says with a little smirk. “And trust me when I say that not many dare to challenge O.”

Clarke smiles as she rolls her eyes. “I didn’t _challenge_ her. I just told her to talk to you.”

“Well, if you got her to back down you did something right. I might have to ask for advice, swap notes,” he grins.

“ _Maybe_  you'd know already, if you talked to her,” she teases before they fall into silence. Clarke worries her lip, knowing she needs to talk candidly, but dreading it all the same. “I’m serious though, Bellamy,” she says after a few moments. His expression changes into one that’s no longer teasing, his playful eyes turning more genuine. “You need to let her in, because everything with me and Gem, it’s gonna change your life. And you’re gonna need someone to help you through it.” After three deep breaths she continues. “And that can’t always be me.” His face falls for a second, back to it’s serious manner before she can even register it. “I don’t mean that I won’t be there for you, Bell. I _will_ , I swear I will. But,” she sighs. “You need someone who’s on your side. Someone who has _you_ as their number one priority. And that isn’t me. Gemma’s my number one priority and she’ll always come first.”

Bellamy nods, expression sorrowful yet strong. “I know. I’ll - I’ll let her in, I promise. It’s just hard,” he admits. “All my life I’ve been looking after her. _My sister, my responsibility_ ,” he tells her, like it's a mantra he's repeated time and time again. “I just don’t like her worrying about me.”

“She’s your sister, Bellamy,” Clarke smiles. “She’s always going to worry about you, no matter that she’s your _younger_ sister. And she’s a big girl- she can handle it if you lean on her now.”

“How is it that you already have so much insight on a girl you’ve met twice?”

“Because you raised her,” she tells him with conviction. He raises his eyebrows, a little smile playing on his lips as she continues. “I may’ve only met her twice but each time she was there to protect you. She _wants_ you to tell her what’s going on, Bellamy.”

Bellamy nods. “Have you told all your friends what’s going on?”

“Yeah, I told everyone that didn’t know last night.”

“And?”

“And they’re very protective,” she tells him with a rueful smile. “Of both me and Gem. But they’ll see you’re a good person when they meet you. Maybe just…prepare yourself for an interrogation or two.”

Bellamy huffs a laugh. “Will do, princess,” he drawls.

“Okay, um. Now I guess we work out how we want to do this. In a general sense, I guess?”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, well, we’ll need to work out how many times you want to see her, when our schedules align, how you want to introduce yourself and your sister and when you’re happy to meet my family and stuff. My mum will probably want to meet you sooner rather than later.”

Bellamy lets out a slow whistle. “Makes sense. Okay, well I work weekdays. It’s mostly nine to five, but it varies sometimes. I can usually head out early when I've done all the group work, just work from home instead.”

Clarke writes the information down on her notepad. “Not weekends, then? The day I, uh, bumped into you was a Sunday and you had a meeting with Miller in the morning.”

“Oh, nah. That’s rare, it was just because they were new clients. Had to win them over with a brunch.”

“Okay,” Clarke nods, “I’ll give you my schedule,” she says as she writes it down.

_Monday. U: 9-11.30. W: 12.30-5._  
_Tuesday. W: 11-4._  
_Wednesday. W: 9-2._  
_Thursday. U: 9-4.  
_ _Sunday. W: 10-3._

“So, Gem has creche Monday through Thursday and Marcus usually babysits on Sundays. How many days do you want to see her?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s a lie, I do know. I want to see her every day, Clarke. Both of you. I don’t want to waste any more time, but - I just - is that bad? I don’t want to rush things.”

Clarke shrugs. “Bellamy, I literally have no idea what I’m doing. I have just as much insight on this whole situation as you do. I think that, as long as you and Gemma are both comfortable, it’s fine to jump into it.” He does’t seem sure, so she continues. “How about we start off with every second day or so, and we can re-evaluate in a few weeks?”

“Okay,” he agrees, so they make a schedule of sorts.

Bellamy will come over for dinner on Mondays and Thursdays, meet them at the park on Wednesdays and spend Saturdays with them. It’s a lot, Clarke knows, but she just _trusts_ him. And she doesn’t want to wait to let Bellamy see his daughter that often. It’s not fair on him after everything, and it’s not really fair on Gemma either. She deserves to meet her dad, even though she won’t understand who he really is. If Gemma feels uncomfortable, then of course they’ll re-evaluate, but it feels wrong to keep them apart just because it might seem like too much too soon. 

They agree to have Octavia over on Sunday afternoon, with Raven as back up for Clarke, and that Bellamy will meet her mum and Marcus the following Sunday. She decides to keep him separate from her other friends for the time being (other than Miller, of course; well, and Raven), because she really needs to see how this goes by herself before bringing in the whole team. Bellamy seems relieved at that, allowing him some time to settle into somewhat of a familiar routine before the interrogations begin.

Half way through talking it through, the timer goes off and Bellamy takes out the finished dessert.

“Well?” He asks after she takes her first bite.

“It’s…delicious,” she puns, waggling her eyebrows with a goofy grin.

He laughs, such a gorgeous sound, looking very pleased with himself. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”

That prompts the conversation of food. Clarke wonders whether she’ll need to keep an eye on Bellamy - like she does with Jasper - whenever Gemma wants sweets, and that continues onto her next bullet point prompt about where he lives. It turns out that he bought a house when he moved here, so is very adult-y with a mortgage and everything. She’ll have to see if it’s toddler-safe, but that’ll come eventually. For now, Clarke prefers keeping things at her house. She doesn’t want to pressure him into buying Gemma things, although she guesses that he’ll have to some time soon.

By nine, they’ve discussed almost everything she's written on her list. Almost.

“So,” she says once he’s asked her about child car seats. “We should probably talk about…you know.”

Bellamy sighs, which he’s been doing a lot throughout this entire conversation. Clarke gets it, really. It’s generally pretty awkward talking all this out, a constant reminder of their separation; that he wasn’t part of his daughter’s life for so long. But this time she _really_ gets it. She doesn’t exactly want to talk about their kiss-slash-probably-could’ve-lead-to-more moment, but they have to. Sometime she hates having to be a responsible adult. It can be really goddamn annoying. (She really wishes she could sometimes repress her feeling and pretend something never happened like any other twenty five year old could).

“Okay,” he says, looking down into his lap like he’s a child being scolded.

“I guess I’ll start,” she says when he doesn’t continue. “We can’t do that again Bellamy.” He looks back to her, an unreadable expression on his face. It's unnerving, because she feels like she’s been able to read him well throughout all their interactions so far. “You get that, right? We can’t do anything to screw up what’s important. And that’s Gemma. She’s my number one priority, and she needs to be yours as well, if you want to do this.”

Bellamy nods. “Yeah,” he says, hoarse, clearing his throat before he continues. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was completely inappropriate and I shouldn’t have put you in that position. It’s just - you’re just _you_ , you know?” 

She doesn’t; doesn’t have any _clue_ what that statement means, but she doesn’t want to ask. It’ll bring up even more questions that she’s not ready to hear or answer, so she just nods instead.

“It’s okay. We just need to be really clear about it. If we’re going to do this, there can’t be mixed messages between us _or_ for Gemma. We’re partners now, but…platonically.” She kind of hates the word, but that’s what they are; what they have to be.  

Bellamy barks out a laugh and shakes his head, a little rueful smile on his lips. “Sure. Platonic partners,” he confirms, sounding only a little sarcastic.

“I’m serious,” Clarke says, hoping her tone is firm.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs.

“Okay,” she says slowly, trying to gage whether he's serious. “Good," she states when she's satisfied. "Well, now that that’s done, you’re free to go.” He hesitates, looking a little taken aback, and she’s quick to amend. “No, no, no- sorry, that sounded super bitchy. I’m not kicking you out or anything, I just meant if you want. It’s only nine, and it _is_ a Friday night, so I’m happy to hang out some more if you want.” _Because I want._ She chooses not to think about that.  


“Well,” Bellamy smiles. “How do you feel about re-watching Teen Wolf season 4 to prepare for the new season?”

“You still watch it?” Clarke grins, probably a little more excited than completely necessary. 

He smirks, “You got me hooked, princess.”

Clarke laughs, delighted. “I told you it’s the best,” she says as she loads it up on Netflix. 

_Platonic partners,_ she thinks as they get comfortable on the couch. _She can totally do that._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed!!!! Picking up the pace after this.  
> Did you like Gemma/Bellamy interactions??  
> Did you lmao when Clarke went 'platonic partners' to 'netflix and chill' in like 10 seconds? Raven's defs gonna make fun of her.  
> Thank you for reading as always :) :)  
> Comments are always much appreciated and make me smile silly.  
> 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyoooooo. Sorry this update took longer than most.  
> Guess who's finished 2/3rd of her degree??????????? It's me.  
> Okay, this is kind of another filler chapter (sorry) before more things start happening each chapter if that makes sense?? But again, hope you still enjoy.  
> In terms of Bellamy POV -- firstly, thanks for all the responses! It was so cool to see so many people invested enough to have an opinion (some more strongly worded than others hahaha). Secondly, I've decided to go with my original thoughts and keep this a Clarke POV fic. A lot of people agreed with me when I talked about how it would disrupt the flow of the fic and brought up the point of it changing the fic from what I originally wanted to write. Saying that, THIRDLY, if by the end of this fic, you guys are still interested and I'm still enjoying this AU, I'd be happy to do a story of one-shots in Bellamy POV as part of a series with this fic. There are certain scenes I'd LOVE to write - some part of this fic (like Bellamy seeing Gemma for the first time) and others not (Bellamy/Clarke first meeting or Bellamy's flight home from LA and Octavia asking about his hickeys-- would be a lot of fun) - so it's certainly a possibility.  
> Anyway, I just rambled on for super long it was weird. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll update as soon as possible.

“He _said_ that to you?” Raven asks, incredulous.

“Yeah,” Clarke confirms, worrying her lip as the two of them settle onto the couch, waiting out Bellamy and Octavia’s arrival.

“And you didn’t ask him to elaborate?”

Clarke huffs, stretching her legs out to rest on Raven’s lap. “What the hell was I meant to say?” She asks, eyeing her daughter as she watches a children’s show. Clarke’s not sure what someone her age would really take in, but she doesn’t want to risk it, so she makes sure Gemma isn’t paying attention to them.

“I don’t know, maybe _‘hey, you know how you kissed me and said you did it because I’m_ me _, what the hell does that mean?’_ ”

“Helpful. Very helpful.” Clarke muses sarcastically as she rolls her eyes, flicking her friend on the ear.

“Stop teaching your daughter to respond with violence,” Raven scolds. Clarke flicks her in the ear again in defiance (mature mother, she knows). “Jesus, you’re annoying,” Raven grins. 

Clarke sighs, rolling out her shoulders. She’s becoming increasingly anxious with the promise of Bellamy and Octavia visiting in the next twenty minutes. Bellamy she’s getting used to. His sister, Clarke’s still not sure about. 

“Anyway, it’s not like I exactly wanted to _know_ the answer. How would I respond to whatever he said?”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Raven says. “So you decided to draw the line; be firm about your relationship.”

“Yeah,” Clarke confirms, worrying her lip again. “I told him we were platonic partners.” Raven stares at her for a full five seconds before bursting out laughing. “Shut up,” Clarke whines, covering her face with her hands. Raven continues to laugh, gasping for air in between fits of giggles. “Are you done?” Clarke asks after a good half a minute.

“Sorry,” Raven breaths once she’s calmed down. “Sorry, but - platonic partners? That’s what you went with?” Clarke groans, removing her hands only so she can properly pout. “And then he stayed over and you…hung out?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay,” Raven nods, schooling her face into a deadpanned expression. “Hey Clarke,” she begins after a few moments of silence.

“What?” Clarke asks, eyeing her friend warily.

“Have you ever heard the phase _netflix and chill_?” She asks, a cheeky tone surrounding the words as she wears a smug grin. 

“Shut up,” Clarke groans, attempting to kick Raven in the stomach. Raven just catches her leg with a roll of the eyes and a click of the tongue. “That’s not what it was.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

They sit together for a few minutes, watching an elephant and giraffe sing a song about friendship, before Clarke speaks up again. 

“So I shouldn’t hang out with him without Gemma? Even if it’s just after she’s gone to bed?”

Raven sighs and squeezes Clarke’s feet so she’ll look to her. “Look, babe,” she pauses as if to collect her thoughts. “He’s been back in your life for what, two weeks?” Clarke thinks for a few seconds before nodding. “It’s not a lot of time to really get to know him again. And you’re already planning to see him most days, having Gemma get to know him. It’s not a bad thing,” she amends when Clarke’s bottom lip makes its way between her teeth again. “It’s just…” she sighs, “it’s a lot, you know? And I think that you should be… I don’t know - careful with him? Careful about sending mixed messages.”

“You’re the one that said the kiss wasn’t a big deal,” Clarke whisper-shouts. 

“I know,” Raven agrees, rubbing a hand up and down Clarke’s lower leg to soothe her. “That was - I didn’t want you getting upset about it. I thought you might want to-” she stops herself before she sighs, “it doesn’t matter. But, if you really _are_ adamant about not going there with him, maybe don’t do datey things. And watching TV with someone you slept with _and_ have a kid with on a Friday night… I don’t know - seems kind of datey.”

“It’s not - he isn’t going to think that," Clarke attempts. "He has a girlfriend or whatever.”

Raven levels her with a _really?_ look that is equally unimpressed and disbelieving. “He also kissed you, so…” She pauses for a moment before frowning. “Hey, why didn’t you ask about her? And what kind of a name is Echo, anyway?”

Clarke sighs. “Again, what would I say? _‘Hey, Bellamy, tell me about the girl you're casually sleeping with. Is that still happening? If so, can you ask her why she has such a ridiculous name?’_.” 

Raven snorts, shaking her head. “Okay, that’s fair.” 

“All I’m saying,” Clarke muses before they lapse back into silence. 

They continue to watch the program with Gemma, laughing when she attempts to sing along to _wheels on the bus,_ and while Clarke normally loves these moments - these in between moments that are so insignificant - she’s finding it difficult to enjoy it, her nerves creeping up on her and butterflies finding a home in her stomach.

“I should make something,” Clarke says suddenly, alarmed, when it’s five to four.

“What?” Raven laughs.

“Like a food platter or something. It’s like host 101. Oh god, I’m so stupid,” she says as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“You need to chill out, Clarke,” Raven muses with a smirk as she follows her. When she sees that Clarke's not going to take her advice she sighs, calling out a “Gem, baby, can you come here?” before Gemma runs to the kitchen and collides into Raven’s legs, looking up to the woman. Raven crouches down and mock-whispers, “Can you go give your mumma a hug?”

Gemma giggles and nods before running to the other side of the bench, hugging Clarke’s legs as soon as she makes contact. Clarke smiles down at her daughter, feeling some anxiety leave her with the small comfort. 

“Come here, button,” Clarke says as she crouches down. Gemma collapses into her, arms coming up around Clarke’s neck as she hugs her tight. “I love you, baby girl,” Clarke says into her daughter’s hair as she tightens her grip around her middle and stands up, picking up Gemma in the process. 

She sends a grateful smile to Raven, who nods in return, and sets out to pick some things from the fridge. By the time the apartment buzzer goes off, she’s cut up some fruit and placed some biscuits and dips on a plate.

“Hello,” she says into the intercom.

_“Hey, Clarke, it’s Octavia. I’m just at the door,”_ she chuckles _, “obviously.”_

“I’ll buzz you in. I’m 1B, second to the right on the first floor.”

“ _Awesome_.”

Clarke buzzes Octavia into the complex and worries her lip as she mentally prepares herself for the afternoon ahead. 

“Behave,” she warns Raven, knowing the girl is likely to go on the offensive and interrogate Bellamy as soon as she gets the chance.

She hears knocking on the door and makes her way to it. “Octavia,” Clarke smiles as she opens the door. “And Lincoln,” she adds, surprised. He smiles softly at her, once again such a calm presence when Clarke’s feeling fairly frantic. She notices Bellamy’s absence, which makes sense, seeing as he knows the code to the apartment complex and would probably just come right in. Still, it’s odd being with his sister and her fiancé without him. “Ah, come in,” she says once she realises she’s been blocking their path for a few moments. “No Bellamy? I thought you were, uh, coming together.”

“Nah,” Octavia says casually, like this situation is a regular for her. “Lincoln and I were meeting up with an event planner. It’s alright I brought him, right?” She asks, suddenly looking quite concerned and sheepish.

“Yeah, of course,” Clarke smiles. It’s true, but it’s not as if she could really say anything else in this situation. “Oh, um, congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks,” Octavia grins, and they stand in silence for a few moments. “So, have we passed the test? You gonna let us any further into your apartment?”

“Shit, sorry,” Clarke says, shaking her head. She leads them through the hallway to the open area of the kitchen and living area. Raven and Gemma are playing with play-doh on the floor of the lounge room, Raven expertly stopping Gemma from putting the colourful blobs in her mouth.

She stands up when she sees Clarke and makes her way over to the three of them. 

“Rave, this is Octavia, Bellamy’s sister and Lincoln, Octavia’s fiancé and my old co-worker. Octavia and Lincoln, this is my best friend Raven.”

Lincoln offers a soft smile and a “Hello.”

“Hi,” Raven says back, all business as she shakes his hand. Her eyes flit to Octavia and the two women size each other up, which is something Clarke kind of expected. “Heard you cornered my friend the other day,” she says, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Raven,” Clarke sighs, having been over this with her already. Raven didn’t exactly _promise_ not to bring it up, so Clarke should’ve known it was coming. 

To her credit (hey, Raven can be scary), Octavia just juts out her chin and mirrors Raven’s stance, defiant as she stares the girl down. “Just looking out for my brother.”

“And I’m just looking out for Clarke,” Raven says evenly, strongly. They stare each other down for a few tense moments, Clarke and Lincoln looking to each other as she rolls her eyes and he looks increasingly wary, before Raven relaxes. “Okay then. Raven Reyes,” she says as she offers her hand.

Octavia shakes it, and there seems to be some sort of understanding between the women - they’re both protecting the people they love.

“Oh, thank god,” Clarke breathes as another knock sounds on the door. She half glares at Bellamy when she opens it, and he has the decency to offer a sheepish smile. “You’re late.”

“I’m not,” he says, which, yeah- it’s true. But he’s later than his sister, which is unacceptable, so she continues to narrow her eyes at him.

“Whatever,” she grumbles, walking back to the others. “Your sister and Raven are either going to love each other or hate each other," she says over her shoulder. "Can’t tell which yet.”

Bellamy laughs, only prompting Clarke to huff as they reach the living area. Raven’s holding Gemma on her hip now, the little girl reaching out to tug at Octavia’s hair _again_ as Octavia coos down at her. 

“Hey, big brother,” Octavia smiles when she sees Bellamy, not seeming to mind the pain Gemma’s most likely causing her. 

“Hey, guys,” he says, eyes landing on Gemma in a split second and smile becoming softer, more loving.

“Off to your mum, little alien,” Raven smiles, kissing Gemma on the top of her head before passing her off to Clarke. “Bellamy,” Raven says, her stance going back to the one Octavia was met with.

“Raven,” Bellamy smiles tightly, obviously feeling the effects of Raven’s intimidation. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hmm,” Raven narrows her eyes. Clarke jabs her in the side with her elbow. _Behave,_ her expression says. “What?” Raven asks innocently.

“Stop it,” Clarke says as she flicks her in the ear again.

“Bloody hell, Clarke,” she grumbles. “I’m going to teach Gemma this if you keep doing it. And I’ll make her use it against you,” she warns.

Clarke pokes her tongue out as she holds her daughter closer, giving Raven a smug _see, m_ _y daughter would never betray me_ look when she hugs her mum tighter.

“Sorry,” she says, sheepish, when she looks at the three people watching the exchange with amused expressions. “Gem, you remember Bellamy?” She asks her daughter as she points to the man in question.

“Bellme,” she chirps, getting a grin out of Bellamy in return. 

“And this is Octavia. She has nice hair doesn’t she?” Gemma giggles as she tucks her head into Clarke’s neck, tickling her slightly in the process. “Oi,” Clarke laughs, shuffling her around to see everyone.  “And this is Lincoln. Can you say hello?” She finishes, encouraging her daughter with a smile.

“Hewwo,” Gemma says before she pulls her body forward in Clarke’s arms, reaching up to touch the tattoo poking out from his t-shirt. She giggles as she begins to tug down his top to where it disappears, and Clarke quickly pulls her away with a sheepish smile directed at Lincoln. 

“Sorry, she’s pretty fascinated by tattoos,” she says as she taps Gemma’s nose twice and shakes her head.

“That’s alright,” Lincoln says, smiling down at the girl. 

Clarke sighs when Gemma starts wriggling in her arms.“Alright, alright. I get it, I get it,” she sets her down and Gemma runs back to the play-doh set out for her. “You guys are free to sit down. Do you want anything to drink?”

They rattle off their drink orders, and Clarke sets off to fill her host role to get drinks and the food platter she made. 

It goes well, mostly.

Octavia and Raven continue to size each other up with not-so-subtle interrogation-like questions about their lives, and Raven only waits ten minutes to start grilling Bellamy about everything. He handles it rather well, Clarke will admit, and she only has to intervene twice (once when Raven asks about the girl he’s sleeping with, and the other when she asks whether he’ll be able to afford child support; not really things Clarke wants to discuss in this situation, but Raven tends to take the blunt approach more often than not). He gets out of it after fifteen minutes though, escaping the inquisition to play with Gemma instead. 

Octavia reins it in more than Raven does (Clarke has a feeling Bellamy warned her; she's sure the word ' _manners_ ' was brought up many times), but still asks Clarke about her attempts to contact Bellamy when she found out she was pregnant. It’s tense to say the least, but Clarke explains it as she did to Bellamy. She makes sure that Gemma’s still distracted, happily playing with Bellamy and Lincoln in games of tiggy (she squeals with delight every time they catch her), so she doesn’t catch on to their discussions. But despite any misgivings Octavia has about Clarke, she seems to fall half in love with Gemma, just as Bellamy had.

They talk about wedding plans, which apparently haven’t gone very far - Octavia sighs heavily when recounting the day's meeting with an event manager (apparently weddings are stressful to plan) - and she and Octavia find common ground on their studies to become teachers.

She learns about their time in England, and that Bellamy got the scar just above his brow in a small skiing accident, which Octavia swears wasn’t her fault.

Clarke decides she likes the girl, agreeing with Bellamy’s early assessment that she’s a firecracker. It’s amusing watching her and Raven interact, because they’re very similar in how protective and loyal they are, but she doubts they’ll admit it. (They’re both also stubborn, which Clarke would point out as common ground for them if she wasn't sure that she’d be physically hurt in that scenario). 

Bellamy is once again in awe of Gemma, and is probably the one to talk least throughout the two hour visit. It makes it more difficult for Raven's line of questioning, because she knows not to say anything in front of Gemma. Clarke’s not sure whether he planned it or not, but she’s strangely proud of him for one-upping Raven in this way. 

The three of them leave around six, having plans for dinner, which Clarke’s glad for. She didn’t want to have to awkwardly kick them out before her friends arrive for movie night (it’s her week to host), and she’s pretty sure she’d end up inviting them in fear of being rude. Not exactly how she wants her friends to meet Bellamy. 

Lincoln hugs her first, and Clarke’s incredibly relieved that he doesn’t seem to hold any resentment towards her (not that she really expected him to), and even Raven can’t refuse the man's gentle smile and embrace. Octavia hugs Gemma fiercely - seriously, Clarke’s a little worried for her daughter’s physical health, but she just giggles happily, so she seems alright - before pulling Clarke into an embrace, a lot less awkward than the first. Raven and Octavia level each other with wary stares, still a little untrusting, and nod - if they were men, Clarke would mutter something about _testosterone_ , but again, not wanting to get physically hurt and all that, she stays quiet. Bellamy seems to find it difficult to leave, which Clarke honestly gets, and hugs Gemma three times before finally embracing Clarke and awkwardly hugging Raven.

“That was alright, yeah?” Clarke asks once they leave, pulling out leftovers for dinner.

“Yeah,” Raven responds absently, clearing up the messy living room. Clarke clears her throat to gain her full attention and Raven sighs before walking to the kitchen. “Bellamy seems good. He’s obviously in love with Gemma already, not that I can blame him,” she says, smiling fondly at her god daughter as she draws at the dining table. “Lincoln’s nice. Kind of a gentle giant, you know? And Octavia’s a lot,” she finishes, not unkindly.

“I knew you liked her,” Clarke smirks.

Raven glares, but Clarke knows her well enough that it's basically a confirmation. “I didn’t say I _liked_ her-" ( _denial_ ) "-But I respect her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke grins knowingly. 

Movie night goes smoothly - they watch Captain America 2 as part of an ongoing Marvel marathon - and Raven gives her friends the inside scoop of the Blakes and co. They seem to trust Raven’s judgment more than Clarke’s, which - yeah, it’s kind of fair, seeing as Raven’s less involved, but she’s still a little insulted. 

She gets a friend request from an _Octavia Grace_ that night, and isn’t embarrassed to admit that _yes_ , she stalks her page. She finds that she’s only been on Facebook for a year, so Clarke doesn’t feel so bad about not finding her three years ago. Guilt still lingers a little in the pit of her stomach, because it's still a connection she could've found, but she tries to push it away. There are quite a few photos of Bellamy, which Clarke assumes Octavia only got away with because he doesn't have his own profile. He looks good - _of course he does_ \- but pretty different from what she’s used to. It makes sense, seeing as he lived in New York and then London, which are generally colder places than LA. He doesn’t wear many t-shirts or anything, so she doesn’t get to see the arm muscles she's grown fond of, but he looks pretty great in a tight sweater (Clarke glares just because). His hair isn't as wild, seeming to be tamed without needing gel, and she finds out that he looks adorable in a puffer jacket and snow in his hair, a little bandage on his forehead and all. 

It’s hard going through everything, seeing glimpses into Bellamy’s life when he still had no idea Gemma even existed. But she’s sure Octavia (and most likely Bellamy) are going through her photos as well, finding pictures of her and Gemma with the entire group, of Clarke’s progressively smaller belly as they go on, of Clarke at Disneyland and the zoo. She wonders whether Bellamy will remember those times together, but she guesses with the upload dates he’ll at least remember he was there. 

It’s hard, but it’s nice. 

She and Bellamy follow the schedule easily after that. He comes around the next day and they walk Gemma to the park before he makes them stir-fry noodles, even though Clarke protests (“ _again,_ ” Bellamy says with an eye roll). He reads Gemma a bed time story again, and Clarke’s pretty sure it’s going to become a part of their routine. He doesn’t stay over after, which is good. 

Clarke thinks Raven’s right. Yes, she needs to get along with Bellamy (she’s _really_ not worried about them getting along), but she needs to be super clear about boundaries. And yeah, hanging out just the two of them is kind of…weird. For now, at least, with so much still up in the air. In a few months time, when everything settles and they’ve got a routine going with everyone very sure about their roles, sure, she’ll be happy to get to the friends stage, and they can hang out just the two of them. But now, nope. 

Raven’s right, and honestly, it’s not just for Bellamy’s benefit. Clarke’s spent so long being independent, having to look after Gemma without anyone that also has her as their number one priority, that she’s kind of nervous having someone else to share the responsibility with. It’d probably be easy for her to end up leaning on him too much. And yeah, she trusts him, a whole fucking lot, really, but she still needs to make sure she’s completely there for Gemma. She doesn’t want lines to be blurred for _her_ , because he’s a great guy, and already so wonderful with his daughter, and _god,_ Clarke remembers how much she liked him. She knows that she could easily go down the same path that three-years-ago-Clarke did (minus the whole accidental pregnancy thing). 

So really, she thinks it’s best to have a buffer. That way, there will be no impromptu kissing or heart to hearts that could lead to kissing. She won’t put herself in a position that will make her rely on Bellamy, won’t get support from him in any other way than as a co-parent. _Platonic partners_ is a term she honestly wishes was never spoken - Raven’s cackle was enough for her to instantly regret her life choices - but… it’s what she needs them to stay.  So she’s glad he leaves early on Monday night - as soon as Gemma's fallen asleep - with no suggestion of staying any longer. 

On Wednesday he meets them at the local park on his way home from work, and Clarke watches with amusement as he learns how adventurous his daughter is.

“Jesus,” he says, hand finding it’s way to his heart, making Clarke double over with laughter.

“You get used to it,” she grins once she can breath again. “Well, that’s a lie,” she amends. “You continue to have mini-heart attacks, but you learn to accept it.”

“Yeah,” he grumbles, still half glaring at Clarke after her laughing fit at his expense. “I’ll have to get used to that again.”

Clarke elbows him in the side, and he ups his glare again, only causing her to grin further. “Was Octavia like this when she was a kid?”

“Yeah,” he smiles fondly, eyes going back to Gemma as she makes the circuit to the slide again. “She’s always been adventurous. Even when we couldn’t do much, couldn’t afford to actually _do_ anything. She was always dragging me along somewhere; used her imagination to take us somewhere else. She just had this energy about her- still does. It’s one of the things I love most about her.” 

He looks back to Clarke to find her staring at him, taking in his words and the obvious love he has for his sister. She clears her throat and smiles at him. 

“She added me on Facebook.” He nods, so she assumes it isn't new information. “I was wondering - Octavia Grace?”

“Middle name,” he answers, which Clarke was expecting. “I didn’t let her make an account until she was eighteen,” he tells her sheepishly. “Don’t lecture me, I know I have an annoying older brother complex. I’ve accepted this side of me, princess,” he smirks. “By then she didn’t really want one. I think it was kind of in spite of me, honestly,” he shrugs. “When she finally decided to sign up there was this, uh, guy who was giving her some trouble. She didn’t want him to track her down online so she didn’t put up her last name. Guess it stuck.”

“Makes sense,” Clarke nods. “Sorry she had trouble, that sucks. But it was cool Facebook stalking her.” He grins down at her, so she sticks her tongue out. “I’m serious. It was cool seeing pictures of you and stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, smug.

“So are you saying you didn’t look me up?” 

“Not saying that,” he backtracks, rolling his eyes when he sees Clarke’s shit-eating grin. “You got pretty big, you know that?”

Clarke chuckles, “Trust me, I remember.”

They fall into an easy silence, watching on as Gemma continues to play, and Clarke thinks back to her pregnancy. 

Everything was so uncertain at the beginning, and she remembers so clearly the heartbreak that came when she realised Bellamy wouldn’t be coming back. She didn’t need saving, no - she was able to do it on her own. But it was still heartbreaking, and she continued to feel that throughout the past three years. It wasn’t all the time - more like a small ache she would feel that would grow in size on some days in particular. Mostly on the classic milestones - birthdays, christmas’, halloweens; first time walking and talking - but also in those in between moments that really make up your life. She would feel it when Gemma laughed at peekaboo or ran happily through the grassy fields in the park, or when she squealed when Clarke splashed her with water in the bath or pool, even when she was crying in the middle of the night, resisting sleep for what felt like hours. She felt it when she wanted to look at someone and say _look what we did, look at what we made,_ but didn’t have anyone to share it with.

But now - now she can do that. She has someone to share Gemma with and it’s amazing.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence between them. She looks up to him, but he continues to watch Gemma. “Going through it by yourself - all of the pregnancy and everything after. I just keep thinking; what if I texted you when I had the chance - maybe we would’ve… I don’t know, exchanged different numbers?; or what if I just made a fucking Facebook and-” he shakes his head, and Clarke puts a hand on his arm. He looks to her, expression already so sorrowful and blinks a few times, clearing tears. “And I remember as well, you know,” he laughs bitterly. “I remember you making fun of me about it. All these things I’d forgotten and I’m trying to remember them now - and that’s one of them. You laughed at me for not having a Facebook and now…” He trails off and shakes his head again, turning away from Clarke.

“Bellamy,” she says, and it almost sounds like a plea. “You think I don’t have the same thoughts? This isn’t your fault - we just had really awful circumstances. What if _I_ had've texted you first?; what if I made you a Facebook as a joke and you ended up using it?; what if some asshole didn’t steal your phone in the first place?; what if I got your sister’s number?; what if Murphy hadn't lost any connections with people in New York ?” _What if I asked you to stay?_ She sighs. “But you can’t focus on that. Trust me, it doesn’t do you any good. Just…focus on now, okay? Focus on you daughter - because she’s right there, in front of you, and you’re going to know her.”

He nods, still looking away from her, but puts an arm around her shoulders to tug her into his side. And maybe she should stop it, shouldn't let herself comfort him, but how could she not right now? She’s not an asshole, and this isn’t really any more than a hug at the end of the day, is it? So they stay like that, watching Gemma play until she runs out of energy, and he whispers a _thank you_ into her hair when he hugs her goodnight. 

Thursday night confirms Clarke’s suspicions that dinner at her apartment means him cooking dinner and helping tuck Gemma into bed, which Clarke isn’t complaining about. He tells her he doesn’t need a paternity test that night, that Octavia trusts his judgement of Clarke and won't push him in either direction. When she tells him it’s okay, because _really_ , she would get it, he continues to says he doesn’t _want_ one. She wonders whether it’s because he’d feel guilty questioning it, maybe feeling like he'd be a bad dad or something, but she doesn’t press the issue.

They go to the zoo on Saturday, and she grumbles under her breath when she sees that Bellamy doesn’t worry about putting on sunscreen, because _seriously?_ So unfair. Gemma loves the animals, and hypes up even more when they reach the lions, much to Bellamy’s joy. 

“Ah, the king,” Clarke smiles as she bumps her hip against Bellamy’s thigh (why is he so tall?), remembering the exchange they had so long ago. He’s holding Gemma so she has a better view of the kings of the jungle (well, Clarke thinks it’s half that and half just to hold his daughter) and looks at Clarke fondly.

“The rebel king, if I remember correctly,” he smirks.

“You remember,” Clarks says, surprised.

“Yeah,” he responds, leaving it at that as he hitches Gemma higher on his hip. 

He continues to hold her most of the morning, even as they sit down for a picnic lunch and he helps her eat, and after, when she falls asleep in his arms as they walk through the butterfly enclosure.

On Sunday she picks him up after work, and drives him to her mum’s house. He’s nervous, which is fair, but it becomes increasingly obvious (and annoying) as he bounces his leg up and down throughout the drive.

“You’ll be fine,” she tells him once she’s parked, watching as he mentally psyches himself up.

“Why do you know so many people?” He asks, disgruntled.

“This is literally the first new person you’re meeting,” Clarke says as she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be fine,” she says, more sincerely when he still hasn’t calmed down. “Now come on.”

And he is fine. She introduces him to Abby and Marcus, and while they’re both fiercely protective of Clarke and Gemma, they trust her judgement, so they trust him. 

Her mum still does the obligatory _if you hurt my people I’ll hurt you_ in not such explicit words, which amuses Clarke to no end - because her mum? Yeah, she can be scary. But Bellamy Blake being scared of her mum? It’s pretty funny. 

Marcus gives him a break, not making Bellamy suffer any more than he has to. They talk about Marcus’ work, and Clarke finds out that Bellamy used to work in construction as well - however, she gets the idea that it was more on the down-low-not-necessarily-legal side of things. 

When they leave, Abby nods her approval to Clarke before she and Marcus both shake his hand.

“Told you,” is all Clarke says as they settle in the car, Bellamy sitting in the back seat with Gemma.

And so the routine continues. He comes around on Mondays and Thursdays, always cooking them something new (and it’s always delicious, damn him) before reading Gemma a bed time story. On Wednesdays they meet for an hour or so to play with Gemma at the park, and on Saturdays they spend at least half the day together. They paint and bake cookies when it’s raining the next week, and run errands together the week after that (he learns the joys of shopping with a toddler and she tries _really_ hard not to laugh as he tries to explain to a sulking Gemma why she can’t have a bag of jelly snakes (fine; she doesn’t try _that_ hard)). 

He has his first really bad day with Gemma after three weeks, when she’s having a particularly horrible moment of _the terrible twos_. She sulks and screams and only lets Clarke console her, and Clarke can see how upsetting it is for Bellamy. He ends up leaving straight after dinner - no goodbye hug or kiss or bedtime story - and it’s hard to watch him go as he tries to hide the fact that he’s upset. Because she _knows_ what he must be thinking; if he were around before, he’d be used to the bad days; and if he were around before, Gemma would be happy for him to comfort her.

Octavia and Lincoln end up coming to the following Saturday’s meet up, and the five of them have a picnic in the park. Bellamy and Octavia kind of fight for Gemma’s attention and affection, so Clarke gets to catch up with Lincoln for a lot of the time. It’s nice getting to know him, and almost disappointing - she really wishes they had connected before he left, if only because they have a lot in common. They talk about art mostly, which is to be expected, and he tells her about his course overseas and his current job while she goes on to say that she mostly gets the chance to have fun with a canvas at work or when her daughter’s doing the same (on paper, of course). The picnic ends when Gemma falls asleep cradled in Clarke’s arm, and Bellamy insists on picking her up and walking them back to her apartment.

It’s nice how they’ve fallen into the routine; how he fits into their lives, right between her uni and work and Gemma's creche, both of them seeing friends and family. She’s comfortable around him, and better yet, so is Gemma. Clarke knows it’ll get more difficult from now on - she still has to introduce him to her friends; she’s yet to really ask about Echo; and they’ll have to work out how to bring up his particular title to Gemma. She’s still worried about not becoming too dependent on him - even the two dinners he cooks every week make Clarke a little nervous - and is trying to make sure no lines are being crossed or getting blurred along the way. 

But…it’s good. They’ve got a routine down and they’re working together and she’s so damn happy that Gemma’s getting to know her dad. 

It’ll take time for everything to work out, but she knows they’ll get there. She’s happy to see this through the long haul. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Some sad!Bellamy for ya and hopefully enough platonic(lol)!bellarke that you were happy.  
> Did you like Octavia/Raven depictions? In my mind they'll stubbornly become really good friends.  
> AHHHHH SO next chapter will either set up angst for the next one, or if I get impatient just have angst in it. Gear up for some angry/upset!Clarke and some #realtalk.  
> Also, i just wanted to let you know that paternity won't be an issue in this fic.  
> Idk why i'm writing like this i sound like a douchebag a little but OH WELL it's 4am.  
> Time for me to sleep.  
> Comments are always appreciated. You guys are awesome!!!! Thanks for reading :) :)  
> 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooooooooo.  
> Don't have much to say about the new chapter, but I've set up for some angst for next one.  
> You're all the best, and also this reached over 10K hits which is cool AF!!! Thanks guys!!!!  
> Hope you enjoy as always, and comments make me love you very much.

“You don’t have to do this,” Clarke reminds Bellamy for what she’s pretty sure is the seventh time this afternoon.

“I want to,” he replies, voice determined even as he continues tapping his foot nervously while chopping an array of vegetables.

Clarke sighs and rolls her eyes, taking in his obviously distressed state as he almost defiantly throws onions into two separate saucepans. It’s Saturday, late afternoon, and he’s once again cooking her and Gemma dinner. However, this time he’s also feeding twelve other people. 

They spent the afternoon together, following the routine that’s become so familiar in the past five weeks. It’s hot, the beginning of June promising more days like this as summer approaches, so they decided to take Gemma to the beach. Honestly, it wasn’t one of Clarke’s better ideas, but at the time she was just excited to feel cold, refreshing water against her perpetually warm skin. 

What she forgot to take into consideration was the fact that apparently going to the beach also entails wearing bathers -who would’ve thought, right? So while she got to cool herself down and spend a nice, lazy Saturday at the beach with her daughter, she was also subjected to the image of Bellamy Blake half naked. 

He’s very…broad. And tan. And Clarke was reminded of how the freckles dusting his face trail lower, spanning across his chest. His very broad, very tan chest. And yeah, _fine_ , his shoulders and back are also kind of insane. All in all, it was definitely a bad idea to suggest an activity that required such a small amount of clothing, especially when it also involved water running down said very broad, very tan chest.

She almost texts Raven _I am sexually attracted to the father of my child_ but thinks better of it, feeling a little too pathetic to send it and not really wanting to have it held against her - the text, not the subject of the text… 

Yeah, it’s been a while since she got laid, give her a break alright?

Other than that minor detail, it was a nice afternoon. Bellamy had lots of fun playing in the sand with Gemma (and maybe a little less fun stopping her from eating it), while Clarke had a rare opportunity to close her eyes and bask in the sun. As always, Gemma loved the water, but this time Bellamy was able to _see_ how much she loved it, not just hear about it. So they played in the sand and in the sea, Bellamy holding Gemma in the water as he tried to teach her the art of _directing_ splashes. Clarke was very happy to see that her baby girl had her back when she ended up just splashing him instead. Clarke looked smug, and Bellamy looked in love, eyes wide and filled with laughter and awe as he held Gemma just a little closer to his torso.

Just before they left the beach he asked if she wanted to grab an early dinner, but she told him the gang was coming around for the movie night normally allocated for Sunday evenings. 

“People are busy tomorrow night. You can come, of course,” she said, offhanded, not really expecting him to consider the offer.

“Okay,” he replied, his tone a little unsure despite the answer.

“Oh…cool. I’ll let people know,” she told him with a smile. “Murphy will be there, so you’ll have a familiar face. And I give you permission to use Gemma as a human shield if they get annoying.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah,” she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you don’t. Don’t think I didn’t notice your strategy against Raven’s interrogation.”

He blushed, _blushed_  and she found it difficult to hide a grin.

She texted the group message she has with her friends  _Bellamy will be here for dinner/movie. Be nice._ an hour ago, switching her phone to silent before the inevitable _WHAT_ s and _!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ s would come through, which brings them to the present moment, Bellamy cooking a hell of a lot of food in an attempt to win her friends over.  As game plans go, it’s a pretty good one, really. Her friends are probably too easily swayed by good food.

But he’s still nervous, which, yeah - it’s understandable. It’s a lot of people in one night, even if he’s met a few already. And her friends often follow Raven’s style of _don’t beat around the bush._ Not necessarily for the same reasons; see, where Raven makes that decision consciously, Jasper does it accidentally with the whole no brain-to-mouth filter thing he has going on.

“You’re sure they like Italian?” Bellamy asks for the third time.

“Yeah,” she replies absently, reading through the reflective essay she’s working on, laptop open in front of her.

“Clarke,” he says, almost a whine and incredibly pathetic.

She looks up from it, taking in his kind of defeated expression and sighing. Saving the document, she closes her laptop and accepts the fact that she won’t be getting any more writing done tonight. She’s used to it, honestly. Part of being a single-mum-slash-student is finding any random time she can to study, and having to abruptly stop at any given moment. This time though, it isn’t a sulking daughter that's demanding attention. No, Gemma’s playing happily by herself in the lounge room. This time it’s a very nervous yet determined Bellamy, looking like he needs a little more than the absent conversation Clarke’s been providing him with.

“Sorry,” she says, sheepish. She gets up from her position on the bar stool to stand with him on the other side of the bench. “Yes, I’m very sure my friends like Italian. Plus, you’re making like five things, so _seriously,_ don’t worry.”

“I just want to make a good impression,” he says quietly.

“And you will,” she tells him, bumping her shoulder to his. “Now tell me what to do. I’ll be your sous chef. It’s a lot of food to cook in the next,” she checks her watch, “hour or so.”

He sighs, looking annoyed at the fact that he needs the help. “Normally I’d say no to help-”

“I know, it’s dumb,” she interjects.

“-but it _is_ a lot,” he continues, ignoring her. “Alright, I’ll do pasta, you can do sides.”

“Sounds good.”

They work well together, which Clarke’s finding it hard to be surprised about. He knows her kitchen well by now, so doesn’t need any directing from her, and they’re able to move around each other with ease. She spends most of the time talking about her first two weeks of placement, which she’s already mentioned a lot. But it’s going so well that she ends up rambling about all the students she’s been working with and how she’s preparing a lesson plan for her sophomore class which will revise the last unit they’ve been working on in biology. He looks at her fondly, almost teasingly as she goes on a tangent, and she stops herself with a sheepish smile when she realises she’s literally been talking about one thing the entire time they’ve been cooking together.

They mostly just need to get things going now so they have time to cook, so within thirty minutes they’ve got two pasta sauces simmering, garlic bread ready to be put in the oven and two salads in the fridge. 

Bellamy’s not sure it’s enough, even when Clarke assures him it is - they one and a halved both pastas, plus _carbs;_ filling - so she puts a beer in his hand and orders him to leave the kitchen. He grumbles, but them seems to realise that leaving the kitchen means getting to hang out with his daughter, so he seems begrudgingly happy about it in the end.

Miller and Monty are the first to arrive, just past six, which is probably good seeing as Bellamy’s already met them; allows him to ease into the night and everything. Clarke’s pretty sure Miller and Bellamy are almost _friends_ now. They’ve been working together closely for almost six weeks - honestly, Miller sees more of Bellamy than Clarke does - and they seem to get along really well.

The others pile in throughout the following twenty minutes, and her apartment becomes packed in the familiar way she’s used to, but Bellamy seems a little overwhelmed with. He does well with introductions, matching faces to the names she’s mentioned. Wells introduces himself with a strong handshake (Clarke can just tell), and an almost silent message of _don’t fuck this up_ while Murphy goes for the _hug_ which makes Jasper coo an “ _awwwww_ ” resulting in a snarky exchange between the two boys..

Clarke rolls her eyes, thinking _typical_ , before snapping them out of the silly tangent with the promise of delicious food.

“Here,” Clarke transfers Gemma from her hip to Bellamy’s arms. “For protections,” she teases, before taking the garlic bread out of the oven and stirring the pasta sauces one last time. “Alright,” she announces loudly. “Bellamy cooked you guys dinner,” she looks to find him blushing and rolling his eyes when Raven slings an arm around his shoulders and whispers what Clarke’s sure are teasing comments for his efforts. “So you have to be nice to him.”

Jasper and Monty _whoop_ at the same time, walking quickly to the kitchen after patting Bellamy on the back, and starting the line of people serving themselves dinner. 

It’s good, like _really_ good. Bellamy is an annoyingly good cook, and Clarke wants to be angry because he’s made her so much amazing food without even _trying._ Cooking was never something that came easily to her; honestly, the only reason she isn’t still surviving off pasta, ramen noodles and takeout like she did in college is because she had Gemma. But for tonight, she’s glad, because Bellamy’s plan to win her friends over with food seems to actually be successful.

Clarke suspects that Raven might’ve said something to everyone to make sure they behaved, which is kind of rich coming from her, but she guesses that once Bellamy passed Raven’s test, she didn’t think it was necessary for him to pass any others.

Clarke’s glad, because the last thing she wants to be doing is mediating men sizing each other up - while Wells and Bellamy shared _a look,_ it was pretty tame compared to other possibilities - or any other tense interactions. She’s not sure if her friends realise that while yes, it’s great for them to have her back and support her, it’s not very helpful when she has to worry about _them_ as well as everything else. She’d much rather they just be civil and not start a witch hunt. She should probably mention that to them. 

And they are civil. Grilling only goes as far as jobs and family, which is what any new partner brought into the group was subjected to - Clarke’s not thinking about what those parallels mean - but he isn’t asked about anything that makes the evening tense.

He and Murphy talk more than the others, and Clarke sees them exchange numbers. She’ll have to ask Murphy about him some time. While they’ve been friends for around three years, she never asked him about Bellamy’s life in New York. At the beginning it was because she was too upset - she thought she'd found a way to find him and any hope was swiftly taken from her, which was devastating - and later, she didn’t think it was her place. 

Murphy made it clear that he moved from New York to get away from people that weren’t particularly nice, to put it lightly. He didn’t have any connections to the place anymore, had to sever all ties and went as far as changing his number and deleting his online presence. She knew that it had to be serious, and it wasn’t something he liked to talk about, even three years after she originally found out. She didn’t want to ask him because she respected his privacy, didn’t want to put him in an awkward position, and she also felt weird asking to hear about a man’s without him knowing. But now, maybe it’s okay for her to ask. She won’t find it as upsetting to hear, and maybe Murphy won’t feel uncomfortable talking about it if Bellamy's around.

When Gemma’s eyes start drooping, even with the excitement of having all her aunts and uncles around, she tells everyone to say goodnight.  Bellamy shifts uncomfortably from where he’s sitting on the floor, perched up next to the cushion Clarke was on, so she lightly kicks him to gain his attention and nods for him to follow.

“Thought you might prefer saying goodnight in private,” she smiles to him as they walk down the hallway. “Baby, do you want to let Bellamy brush your teeth while I pick out your pyjamas?”

Gemma nods in her arms, pulling a small chuckle from Clarke. She transfers Gemma to him, and continues to her bedroom where Bellamy stops in the bathroom. Even this is a familiar routine now. Bellamy finds helping Gemma brush her teeth hilarious, so Clarke lets him do it if Gemma doesn’t mind. 

She pauses at the door of the bathroom, taking in the two of them. They’re growling at each other, Bellamy obviously trying very hard not to laugh as watery toothpaste dribbles down from her mouth.

“Alright spit,” he tells Gemma, leaning her over to the sink. “Now do a lion again,” he prompts and she giggles before letting out a little roar/growl, baring her teeth for him so he can brush them more easily.

He notices Clarke watching them and grins stupidly at her, and it kind of takes her breath away. It hasn’t even been two months, yet he’s here, so comfortable with Gemma, so in _love_ with Gemma. She never expected to have this again; and while she knows that she’d be enough for her daughter - deep down she knows that -, she’s glad that Bellamy’s here now.

“Last one,” Bellamy says as he leans Gemma over the sink again. “Awesome job, princess,” he grins. “Can I get a high five for that?”

Gemma giggles and slaps her hand against his, squealing with delight when he sweeps her up from the counter.

“Give one to mumma, too,” he laughs as he holds her up to Clarke, and Gemma slaps her hand as well, very happy with all the praise she’s receiving.

Once she’s changed into her pyjamas, which is always fun to watch, Bellamy once again reads her a book - this time _Rose Meets Mr. Wintergarten_ \- and they kiss her goodnight before tuckering her in.

“Hey,” he says quietly, grabbing Clarke’s arm before they leave Gemma’s room. “Thanks for tonight,” he smiles at her earnestly. “They’re less scary than I thought they’d be.”

“Eh,” Clarke shrugs. “Honestly I think Raven said something to them so they weren't brats.” He looks back to her, a little alarmed and deflated and she smiles, feeling a little guilty for teasing. “I’m just kidding. Well…mostly. Raven saying something is definitely a point to you, but…they like you, so don’t worry.”

He nods, reaching a hand out to squeeze her shoulder. They share a paused moment, a little heated, where they just stare at each other. Bellamy circling his thumb soothingly on her shoulder, and Clarke just thinking about how _domestic_ the day was. How normal it feels to have him here, to share Gemma with him. 

But he clears his throat and shakes his head, seeming to clear his thoughts as he removes his hand from her shoulder, and the moment's gone. She offers him a small yet genuine smile, and they make their way quietly to the others.

“So Bellamy,” Monroe starts when she sees them approaching. Clarke sees him tense a little from in front of her, probably wary that the line of questioning is going to start now. “You a fan of Marvel?” And she sees him relax, shoulder slumping and huffing what she assumes to be a relieved breath. 

Clarke rolls her eyes and smiles fondly at her friend. “Would it matter if he wasn’t? I can’t imagine you letting _anyone_ stop this Marvel marathon.”

Monroe scoffs, giving Clarke an _of course I wouldn’t_ look. “Just getting to know him, Clarke.”

“Well I do,” he intervenes with a smile.

Monroe nods, as if that’s all it takes for Bellamy to make his way into in her good books. “Excellent.” 

They start The Avengers and Bellamy discovers the fun (annoying) times that are watching a movie with twelve kind-of-asshole friends. The night ends nicely, and Monty and Miller offer Bellamy a lift home, so Clarke’s able to fall into bed as soon as the last people leave.

She releases the tension that’s been building all day - ever since Bellamy tugged off his shirt and seemed to slow-motion run out of the water (Clarke swears she’s not making it up) - with a little help (she still owes Monroe and Harper for that present two years ago), trying to convince herself that she isn’t fantasising about anyone she _knows_ to help her along the way, and that dark skin, large calloused hands and heavy torsos are totally common features that can’t be delegated to anyone in particular.

She’s pathetic, she knows. Just let her have this one, okay?

**

The following two weeks go quickly, and she wraps up her student teaching placement and hence second year of her program by the end of it. The kids were great (well, as great as high school kids can be), and they _loved_ Clarke, which she’s convincing herself is because she’s awesome and not just because she’s probably more of a push-over teacher than the regular Ms. Jones is. 

She didn't have exams, either, so only had two essays to write, and she was all free until September. 

Clarke, Wells and Monty are showered with love and congratulations on the final Friday of their school year - the only three still studying - and Clarke leaves Gemma at her mum’s for the night to have a proper night out. She doesn’t do it often, but it’s silly for her to pick Gemma up when it’s late, just to take her home, so she allows herself the night off of being a mum, and lets herself drink and dance with her friends.

She remembers to send off a text to Octavia -  _Congrats on finishing, O!!_  - because she knows that Octavia’s finished her whole program, and will hopefully start teaching when the new school year rolls in.

_Thanks, girl!!!!!!!!!!!!! You too!!!!!!_ is her response, so Clarke’s betting on the fact that she’s also had a drink or two. They’ve been getting closer in the past two months. After the awkward first meetings, Clarke realised that Octavia’s actually extremely awesome, and definitely someone she’d like to be friends with, regardless of the whole Bellamy situation. They’ve been exchanging a lot of texts, and Octavia demands Clarke snapchats her photos and videos of Gemma whenever she does something cute (which is hard, because Octavia thinks _everything_ she does is cute, and, okay, Clarke kind of agrees). 

It’s around eleven at night when she gets another text from Octavia, an address and the demand _Get your butt over here. Bring everyone!!!!!!!_  so the gang makes their way over to what ends up being a house party - Octavia and Lincoln’s house, no less -, most of them drunk where Clarke’s just tipsy, and looking forward to continue the night partying.

And with that, Octavia and Lincoln are introduced to her ragtag group of friends. 

“Congrats on finishing, princess,” Bellamy yells over the music, sliding in next to her as she makes herself a drink in the kitchen.

“Bellamy!” She exclaims, jumping into him and hugging him close. She hums before releasing him from the embrace, coming face to face with his chest. “Very broad,” she mutters quietly as she pats him firmly, and yeah - she might be a little drunker than she first thought.

Bellamy chuckles, pulling out a cup and filling it with what she suspects is water before handing it over to Clarke. She frowns at it, annoyed at the fact that is most likely non-alcoholic, but drinks it anyway.

“Where’s Gemma?” He asks, a little softer.

Clarke smiles fondly at her daughter's name down to her cup. “She’s staying at mum’s tonight.” She looks back up to him, suddenly feeling a little defensive. “I hardly ever do this and I’m not even drunk.”

“It’s fine, Clarke,” he smiles, rubbing one of her arms up and down. “I was just wondering.”

“Oh,” she sighs. “Okay. Sorry, it’s just - I don’t want you to think I’m a bad mum or anything.”

Bellamy laughs, “Trust me, I don’t think that.”

They talk for a while, and she finds out that he only got here a little before her, not having planned on hanging out with a bunch of people five years younger than him, which yeah - fair enough. She tells him how her assessments went, but before they can talk for much longer she’s pulled away by Raven and Harper to the makeshift dance floor that’s really just the lounge room with couches pushed back against the wall.

Octavia joins soon enough, a lot drunker than Clarke is, and it’s honestly a bonding experience between friends to have one of the grind on you. She subsequently slurs an “I love you. You’re so nice and pretty.”  Clarke just laughs, hugging the girl back when she embraces her, and winks at Bellamy when he catches her eye. He rolls his, but looks fondly at his obviously drunk sister. Raven and Octavia dance together as well, which is the best, and Clarke’s definitely going to tease Raven about it _forever._

It’s honestly a _really_ weird night, because it’s almost like they’re just a bunch of normal twenty-somethings that are awesome friends, which, yeah - she’s like that with _her_ group, but definitely not with Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln. Plus it’s always weird having a night off from Gemma. She feels guilty a lot of the time, and will usually need at least two pep talks from Raven during the night when she starts thinking of heading home before ten. She doesn’t really _know_ what you do when you don’t have the responsibility of a child. She doesn’t have Friday nights like this, and when she does she still doesn’t get really drunk or anything. She’s still reasonably responsible.

Still, while it’s a really weird night, it’s also really fun. It’s awesome to have finished the second year of her course, and yeah, while she knows she could be done by now, she’s still stupidly proud of herself for getting to where she is. And her friends are too. They keep cheering her, which a lot of the other people at the party seem confused about, but cheer along nonetheless, and embracing her at random intervals when they’re dancing or talking. 

She convinces Wells to give her a piggyback through to the back yard, and once they're by themselves he tells her that when she was talking to some random guy - Sterling, she thinks his name was - Bellamy was staring at her. It’s honestly like tenth grade gossip which feels weird because _shouldn’t they be better than this?_  but apparently not. It’s odd, and once again brings up a swirl of emotions and thoughts she is just _so_ not ready to deal with, especially in her inebriated state, so in the end that’s what makes her decide it’s time to go home.

She declines a lift from Bellamy, because apparently he hasn’t been drinking (Clarke finds it hard to believe), and ends up getting an uber home by herself. Her friends send her off with lots of hugs and kisses and another round of congratulations, and Clarke ends up crashing in bed around three with a stupid grin on her face. 

One more year and she’s a teacher. That’s pretty cool.

**

She wakes up with a small hangover, but luckily Bellamy placed a cup of water in her hand at regular intervals throughout the night so she’s mostly okay. 

She reads a text from him when she finally checks her phone, finding it’s just past ten in the morning.

_Hope you got home alright, princess. Let me_ _know_  
_if you’re not up to hang out today. Give Gem a kiss_  
_for me._

She smiles as she reads it, but groans when she realises she has to _work_ today. Now that she’s got a break until September, she’s picking up more shifts so she can save some extra money. She just completely forgot to tell Bellamy her schedule would be changing.

_Hey Bell. I’m fine, thanks for checking up on me. I_  
_actually have work today, sorry - I completely forgot_  
_to tell you. Are you free tomorrow? I can pick you up  
after work? Still finishing _ _at 3._  

_Glad you’re alive :) 3 should be fine. Don’t forget  
that kiss._

_Will be sure to give her many. See you tomorrow :)_

She makes herself get out of bed, more tired than hungover, and gets herself ready for the day. She’s able to drop in at her mum’s for half an hour before work starts, so showers her daughter in kisses and plays with her until her noon shift starts.

It seems that with the changes in her shifts, Sinclair mucks up other people's as well, because the next day Matt, a newish guy who looks like he's only just legal to drink, comes in at two instead of three. It makes more sense for her to finish early than for him to wait around for an hour before starting, so she clocks off and sends a quick text to Bellamy. It’s Sunday, so she’s assuming he’ll just be at home, but if not she can pick up Gemma from Marcus babysitting and meet him later.

_Finished early. Coming to get you now, unless  
you’re not home? Let me know._

He doesn’t, but he’s in the same general direction as her mum's, so she decides she may as well drop in just in case he doesn’t have his phone on him.

She knocks on the door, and hears shuffling inside, so expects Bellamy to be facing her when it swings open. She doesn’t really know what to think or say when instead it’s Echo who answers. Echo. In a shirt that is very clearly Bellamy’s and what appears to be not much else.

It’s a shock, because while she hasn’t exactly _asked_ (she really should’ve), he didn’t say anything either. But she can’t exactly blame him. With everything that’s been going on, it might’ve been awkward to add on the fact that he’s still sleeping with or now, maybe even seeing, Echo.

“Hey, Echo,” Clarke smiles, feeling uncomfortable because this is _definitely_ not the situation she wants to be in. She feels even more uncomfortable when Echo looks taken aback, clearly confused about why some random woman is standing on the front porch and knows her name. 

She clicks suddenly and nods, a look of understanding dawning on her features as she points to Clarke. “Girl from the pharmacy that one time.” And that’s a pretty shit introduction as it is, let alone the fact that it’s basically telling Clarke that Echo has no idea who she is. 

“I usually just go by Clarke,” she says mechanically, mind reeling with this information.

If she doesn’t _remember_ Clarke as Clarke, it's because she doesn’t even know who Clarke is, what she means to Bellamy. Which means he hasn’t mentioned her for the seven weeks he’s been in Gemma’s life. Has failed to let the girl he’s been sleeping with, for what - three fucking months? - that he has a _child_.

And Clarke’s heart plummets at the thought.

“I actually have to go,” she says quickly, turning on her heels in a similar fashion to the first time they met. God, this girl must think Clarke’s crazy. She walks back to her car, hopping in and driving home with less awareness of her surroundings than is probably safe.

But all she can think about is the fact that Bellamy’s been fucking this girl for the almost  _two months_ that he’s known he has a daughter, but didn’t think it was necessary to mention her. How could he - just,  _fuck._

She picks up Gemma and spends the rest of the day going through the motions, a world of thoughts swimming through her mind that make her heart heavier than it’s been in a long, long time. She ignores Bellamy’s calls and texts until she _has_ to reply, not wanting him to come to her apartment like he did that first night.

_Finished early. Coming to get you now, unless_  
_you’re not home? Let me know._  
_2.05pm_

 _Shit sorry, I didn’t read this. Echo said you came_  
_and left? Are you okay?_  
_2.34pm_

_Clarke?  
3.19pm_

_Clarke, fuck - you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?_  
_Are you okay?_  
_3.57pm_

 _Clarke! Can you pick up or just let me know you're_  
_okay?_  
_4.05pm_

 _Princess, please just tell me you’re okay. Please_  
_tell me what’s wrong._  
_4.12pm_

_ I’m fine.  
4.13pm  _

_Clarke what the fuck? What’s going on?  
4.13pm _

_Clarke, seriously? Can you pick up? I’m going to_  
_come over if you don’t tell me you’re okay._  
_4.31pm_

_I said I’m fine. Don’t come over.  
4.48pm _

_Jesus, can you just tell me what’s wrong?  
5.09pm _

_Fuck off.  
7.23pm _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently in america your seasons don't start on the first of the month?? Is that real??  
> Anyway, how did you like the chapter??  
> SO, this obviously has a down hill ending, and Clarke's obviously a little angry... But PLEASE don't get super shitty at her/me just yet and say she overreacted, because while it's up for debate whether or not she did - it's subjective - you'll see a lot of her thoughts and feeling next chapter and why she left and why she's upset.  
> Also next chapter, angry!Clarke and confrontations!bellarke. Depending on word count, there may or may not be a coffee date with octavia where there'll be a few things revealed about Bellamy and his time both with Clarke pre-Gemma and his time in England.  
> Anyway, as always I hope you enjoyed, and all I can say is saddle up for a sad/angry chapter that I'm very excited to write, because honestly CLARKE JUST LET OUT YOUR FEELINGS!!! (and she will).  
> Comments are the best, guys - you motivate me to write more quickly, and keep me invested in this story :) :) Thanks for reading and those that comment every update - it's the best!!! (And those that comment in general!)  
> 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations aka feels city.  
> Enjoy!

“Come here, baby,” Clarke whispers as she picks her daughter up from her crib. “Shhhh, don’t wake up. You’re alright, mumma’s got you,” she adds when Gemma starts to stir in her arms. Her daughter quickly melts into Clarke’s body as she holds her tight, walking them from Gemma’s room to her own.

It’s just past eleven, and Clarke hasn’t heard from Bellamy since she last texted him the snarky and honestly reined in _fuck off_. She’s glad, not sure what she would’ve said if he kept trying to talk to her; if he turned up at her apartment. 

She’s calmed down a little from the spur-of-the-moment anger-induced text. She sent the gang a _sorry can’t make it tonight :( :( :( drink wine for me xx_ message, not feeling up for movie night and the inevitable Bellamy related questions it would promise. Instead, she ran herself a bath - using the bath salts she saves for particularly trying days -, played relaxing music, made herself a rum and coke and let herself soak away the tension in her body until her tears stop coming and her thoughts cleared. She’s still not good - how could she be? - but she’s better. Where there was anger, there is now guilt, and Clarke wonders absently why she’s feels better hating herself than hating someone else. 

She lays Gemma onto her bed - the little girl already fast asleep again - and walks across the room to turn the light off. The moon is bright outside, so Clarke’s bedroom is illuminated in a pale, silver glow as she crosses it, returning back to her bed to lie on her side and face her daughter.

She doesn’t normally do this. She’s meant to be the mother, comforting her daughter when she needs it, not _requiring_ the comfort. But tonight she can’t sleep, and she just needs her baby girl close by.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers as she looks down at Gemma; eyes closed and face relaxed, mouth a little parted as her breaths come evenly. Clarke kisses her on the forehead before putting a hand to her face, cupping it as her thumb strokes the apple of her cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats as a few tears stroll down her own face. “You’re perfect, baby, and I love you so much. I’m sorry he did this. I’m sorry that he-” she chokes on a sob, and her tears roll down her face in hot streams, her pillow quickly becoming damp with them. She shakes, silent sobs wracking her body as she pulls her daughter closer. Gemma stirs a little, turning in the large bed so she’s almost tucked into Clarke’s side, and sighs.

She’s perfect, and Clarke thought he felt the same; thought he was _proud,_ not - not _ashamed_. It makes her feel sick even thinking the word, makes her feel guilty to associate it with her daughter. 

“I’m sorry, button. I’m so, so sorry,” she exhales, stroking her daughter’s cheek and letting the tears fall. She deserves the feeling of them burning into her skin, deserves the runny nose and the shortness of breath, the sickening pit in her stomach; it’s a punishment that she allowed this to happen, that she put her daughter in the position to get hurt.

She repeats the words to her baby girl - just a whisper so she doesn’t wake her up - like a mantra; keeping her grounded so she doesn’t completely lose it. _I’m sorry he kept you a secret. I’m sorry I trusted him so easily. I’m sorry I let this happen. I’m so, so sorry._

It reminds her of the words she once repeated in her head to Bellamy, at the beginning of all this. She should’ve known better. Shouldn’t have let her guard down so easily. But he was Bellamy - he  _is_ Bellamy - and she thought - it doesn’t matter what she thought. She was obviously wrong; maybe not completely, but at least partially.

She falls asleep eventually - not sure how far into the night she spends repeating the words - with a tear stained face and the warmth of the most precious person next to her; the promise to try harder, to be better; to not let anything like this happen again.

**

“Oww,” Clarke groans as a hand instinctively goes to her side, opening her eyes to find a cheeky faced girl looking at her. Gemma pushes herself up from Clarke’s side, using her mum’s stomach as leverage. “Did you fall over, button?” Clarke asks with a laugh.

Gemma giggles and nods, taking a few steps back before she dives into Clarke again, making Clarke grunt with the impact. Yeah, Clarke’s thinking she didn’t so much as _fall_ , as decide to wake her mumma up by jumping on her.

“Oi, come here,” she sweeps her daughter up and so she’s lying on Clarke’s torso and begins tickling her. 

“Mummmmyyyy,” she squeals with laughter, wriggling her body to escape Clarke’s hands. 

Clarke lets her get away, and she backs up a few steps while Clarke props herself up into a sitting position. Gemma flashes a cheeky grin - eyes wide and bright as her curly blonde locks bounce in a tangled mess - before charging for Clarke again. 

Clarke’s ready this time, so she’s able to get her hands on her daughter and lift her in the air. She flails her arms and legs as she’s lifted, pulling a hearty laugh out of Clarke.

“Weeeeeeeeeee,” she sings with delight, arms and legs flapping about, face one of pure, simple joy. 

Clarke can’t quite contemplate how she could be seen as anything _but_ perfect; doesn’t understand how Bellamy could think she’s anything less than, how he could want to _hide_ her.

And it feels like he’s broken her trust - the stupid amount of trust she placed in him - because he _lied_ about this part of his life. Which Clarke can’t help but think means he isn’t as committed to this as she thought he was. And it’s a slap in the face, because she thought - she thought they were _together_ in this now. She finally had someone that was there for Gemma, just like her, and he let her down.

She’s broken from her thoughts when her alarm goes off.

“Time to get up, button,” Clarke tells her daughter as she lowers her back to the bed, turning off the annoying chirping sounding from her phone. 

“I eat bekfast,” Gemma says as she lowers herself onto the floor. Clarke opens the bedroom door and the little girl runs out, down the hallway and into the living area.

“What do you want to eat, baby? Toast or cereal?”

“Toast,” Gemma declares as she follows Clarke into the kitchen, going to the fridge and attempting to open it. Clarke helps, and the little girl immediately grabs the punnet of strawberries and holds them up. “Stawbwies.”

“Okay, and strawberries,” Clarke smiles as she takes them.

Clarke prepares their breakfasts - pulling out some yoghurt and muesli for herself and flicking on the kettle for a cup of coffee - and sits Gemma in the booster seat at the dining table. They eat happily together, Gemma making a bit of a mess (as always) and Clarke telling the little girl what she’s doing today. 

“Bath time,” Clarke tells Gemma when they’ve finished eating. 

She’s read that it’s good to have baths in the evening - as part of a relaxing bedtime routine - but whenever Gemma’s in the bath, she seems to become _more_ active, and Clarke learnt early on that it was difficult to settle her after one. She just really, _really_ enjoys splashing.

She gives Gemma a bath, rolling her eyes when the cheeky girl manages to get her wet as well (luckily she’s still in pyjamas), and wraps her up in a Star Wars poncho towel when she’s all cleaned up; curtesy of Raven and Wick.

It’s already quite hot, so as soon as Clarke’s dried her off, Gemma strips off the offending garment and Clarke gets to play her favourite game of chasing a naked toddler around the living room.

She catches her as Gemma lets out a squeal of laughter, and is eventually able to convince her to put on some clothing. She chooses a Disney princess dress, which - her daughter’s only two and a half, but -  _typical_. 

Clarke gets dressed, deciding on the dark navy skinny jeans that always make her look good and a white silky singlet, putting some extra time into make up in the hopes that looking nice will help her feel better. She looks at herself in the mirror and silently tells herself that she can get through the day before calling out to Gemma to finish getting her ready.

She drops the little girl off at creche, sighing a relieved breath that Octavia’s finished placement there, and makes it to work by nine. For once the heavens are feeling kind, because she actually gets to _work_ at work, which isn’t something that normally happens. Matt - while a nice enough boy - seems to have forgotten to complete the usual Sunday shift to-do list. She’s chalking it up to his lack of experience, but instead of feeling annoyed, she’s grateful. She opens the store, puts on the playlist she made for when she’s feeling a bit angry - at life, at men - and is able to lose herself in the mindless routine of wiping down display cases, stock checking and rearranging the table that’s holding this week’s _special sale items._ (It’s an assortment of colouring books, and it’s the best.)

It’s not exactly five hours worth of work, but she’s able to keep her mind busy once she’s done by pulling out her laptop and getting through her list of errands. Once she’s payed this month’s utility bills and looked into her teaching program’s subject list for next semester, she decides to look into a trip she’s been meaning to go on.

_Was thinking of camping at Yosemite for dad’s anniversary. I  
think he would’ve liked it. Would you want to come with?_

Jake Griffin died almost eight years ago, on the 5th of September. Clarke and Wells always like to do something to remember him, seeing as they can’t visit his grave back in Chicago easily. Her dad took her to Yosemite when she was younger - as part of a father-daughter trip they went on - and she’d been planning to return before she got pregnant. The trip was put on hold once Gemma was born, but she’ll be almost three by September, so it wouldn’t be so difficult to take her on a camping trip.

_Of course, Clarkey. I can take time off work easily enough. I  
think he would’ve like it, too. He’d want Gem to see it._

_Yeah, I think so, too :) Okay, I’m gonna look into it but we_  
should book soon. I’ll ask if anyone else is able to get time  
off, but I feel like it’d be more difficult for them. 

_Sounds good, Clarkey. Let me know and I’ll help sort it out._

_Thanks, Wells. I love you._

_I love you, too, Clarke xxxx_

She smiles down at the text, her heart feeling a little less heavy with the memories of the childhood spent with her best friend and her dad. 

He would want Gemma to see it, just like Clarke had when she was young. It’s still hard, even after eight years. She misses her dad even if the heartbreak isn’t quite there anymore. She’s used to his absence now, but she still wishes he could’ve met Gemma; could’ve gotten to known his granddaughter.

She wishes he could be here, but what she has - it’s enough. She might not be happy today, but she is happy.  
**

He’s sitting at her front door when Clarke arrives home, hunched over with his elbows resting on bent knees, head held in his hands. He looks defeated, and Clarke pushes away the feeling of guilt that bubbles up inside her; resists the urge to pull him into a hug and tell him everything’s going to be okay - ever the caretaker, she is.

He gazes up when she stops besides him, and he looks…tired; eyes bloodshot and wide, with worry lines she hasn’t noticed before creased on his forehead. 

Clarke sighs a little, unlocking the front door without say anything, and steps around him to get inside. He stands abruptly, and she’s never seen him look so uncertain, so out of place, to looks at her with pleading eyes, obviously unsure of whether she’ll let him in.

Without saying a word, she opens the door further and steps to the side. He lets out a broken sigh - which sounds a little more like a sob - and passes through the doorway. He follows her through to the kitchen, and Clarke’s becoming increasingly glad that she went grocery shopping. It gives her something to do as Bellamy sits at the bench, both of them continuing the silence.

She doesn’t want to look at him - doesn’t know whether she can stomach looking into his eyes with the knowledge that he betrayed her trust - but after a few minutes, she’s finished unpacking groceries and flicked on the kettle, and has no choice but to turn to face him.

“Clarke-” he begins, voice hoarse, sounding like he hasn’t spoken for hours.

“Why aren’t you at work?” She interrupts, crossing her arms.

“I took the day off,” he replies after clearing his throat. “I needed to-”

“How long have you been here?” She cuts him off again.

“Since around eleven,” he sighs. “I thought you started work at twelve thirty.”

“I told you I changed my working schedule.” It’s almost three, so he’s been waiting for her for almost four hours. “I’m surprised Mrs. Luxley didn’t call the police,” she muses.

She makes them both a cup of tea, and slides one to him without a word. 

“Clarke, what the fuck?” Bellamy says eventually, tone more exasperated than angry. “You can’t just - you can’t just do that shit to me.” Clarke stays silent, keeping her face blank as she stares at him over her mug. He sighs a harsh breath and brings a hand to scrub over his face. “Is this about Echo?” He asks, voice rough again and looking as though he doesn’t really want to hear the answer.

Clarke purses her lips and evenly replies “partly.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“It means this is partly about Echo,” she says unhelpfully.

Bellamy stands up from his bar stool abruptly, causing it to fall on the ground as his hands reach for his hair and tighten. 

“Can you just fucking _stop_?” He fumes, loud enough to make Clarke jump, startled.

She recovers quickly, raising an eyebrow and flatly asking “what?”

“This,” he says loudly, gesturing towards her. “Can you just be fucking _real_ for once?”

“Excuse me,” Clarke says, stepping forward as she crosses her arms.

“You’re just so-” he begins as he paces the small space between the dining table and one of the couches. “So fucking put together." He stops talking but continues pacing, looking as though he's collecting his thoughts. "You tell me you have no idea what you’re doing with the situation and then you pull out these fucking _lists_ and shit, Clarke. And you - you organise everything like you’ve done this before and you’re so - so _normal_ about it all, which is just - how the fuck do you think it feels when you’re like this,” he gestures to her composed form again, “when I’m here going out of my fucking mind? You don’t tell me how you’re feeling, which - fine, I can’t force you to confide in me. But can you at least be fucking _real_ with me? Because right now I’m so fucking confused and all you’re doing is standing there like you haven’t got a care in the world.” He stops pacing, looking at her pleadingly.

Clarke releases a breath and shakes her head. “Let me get this clear. You’re _angry_ at me for making this _easier_ for you? You’re upset that I let you ease into all of this? That I’m not burdening you with extra shit when you’re already going through a difficult time?”

“No,” he yells, walking back to the bench so they’re facing each other on opposite sides of it. “I’m not _angry_. I’m just-” he groans, shaking his head as a hand goes to massage his temple. “You don’t tell me anything about how this is all affecting you, which - _fine_ , if you don’t want to talk to me about that, okay. But now you’ve just - you ran out yesterday, Clarke; didn’t tell me what the fuck was wrong, and by your text, you seemed fucking furious. And now you’re just - _standing there_ like you aren’t angry; like you're _bored_. So can you just - _fuck_ \- can you just tell me what the hell is going on? Just be fucking _real_?”

Clarke releases a shuddering breath, closing her eyes tightly as she tries to compose herself, much to Bellamy’s despair she’s sure. _The fucking nerve._

“Okay,” she says as she looks back to him. “You want me to be ‘real’ with you?” She asks mockingly. His jaw ticks and his brow furrows, but Clarke doesn’t care. “Fine then,” she yells, walking to him and slamming a finger in his chest. “Let’s me fucking _real_ then, Bellamy. I see you for the first time in _three years_ \- not knowing where the hell you’ve been or why the hell I wasn’t able to contact you - two months ago. And you look at me like-” she sighs. This isn’t the point, but she’s getting to it. “It doesn’t matter. I’m standing there with the knowledge that you’re my daughter’s father and you’re there, just looking at me like I'm some girl you used to fuck,” she yells, breathing heavy.

“Clarke-” he says, strangled.

“Don’t interrupt. I’m being _real_ for you, Bellamy. So shut the fuck up.” She releases a harsh breath before continuing. “That’s not even the fucking point. Because,” she shakes her head and scrubs a hand over her face. She probably shouldn’t continue down this path - it’s getting a little too much about _them_ \- but she can’t stop herself now that she’s started. “ _whatever_. You had no clue that I’ve been thinking about you ever since you left. I don’t blame you for that. But - but then she comes up to you, hands you a box of fucking _condoms,_ Bellamy, and - what the fuck am I meant to think? You tell me you aren’t together, whatever the fuck _that_ means, but you’re sleeping with each other. Which is - it’s fine. Fuck whoever you want, Bellamy, I’m not judging.” She stops, breathing heavily as she takes a few steps back. She’s about to make this more personal - make this more about herself than she already has - and it’s dangerous territory. “And then you kiss me,” she says quietly, happy to have the distance between them. “I should’ve asked you about her,” she says after a few moments of tense silence.

“You’re the one,” Bellamy starts, looking incredulous, “that said all that shit about platonic partners, Clarke.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Clarke says harshly, almost cutting him off. “This isn't about me being upset that you're fucking someone else, whether or not you kissed me.  Like I said Bellamy, fuck whoever you want.”

“Then what _is_  it about, Clarke?”

“It’s about the fact that she didn’t even know who I was,” she yells, startling Bellamy. “No,” she shakes her head, voice returning to a normal volume again. “She didn’t even know who _Gemma_ was," she says, voice cutting.

Bellamy deflates, leaning back on the kitchen bench as his eyes widen and face relaxes from its tense expression.

“You didn’t tell the girl you've been sleeping with _since I first bumped into you_ that you had a daughter, when you’ve known about her for almost two months, Bellamy,” she says quietly, throat tightening with the words. 

“Clarke,” he says, voice strangled. “It was the first time I’d seen her in a few weeks.”

_Oh._ That's, well - new. But does it change anything? Not for her.

“I don’t care.” That still leaves a whole month that he knew and didn’t share the information. That he kept Gemma a secret. “You didn’t tell the girl you’ve been sleeping with for what, three months?, that you had a daughter. I don’t care how casual it is between you two. I don’t care that you haven’t seen her in a few weeks. I don’t care,” she shakes her head, eyes starting to get glassy with tears. 

“Clarke-” he reaches for her, but she takes a step back and continues to shake her head. He looks like he’s been slapped with her recoil.

“You didn’t think it was necessary to tell Echo about Gemma. You kept it to yourself like she’s what?” A few tears escape her eyes and she wipes them away harshly. “A dirty little secret?” She feels sick with the words, and Bellamy blanches. 

“No,” he starts, eyes pleading with her. “It’s not like that, Clarke. I don’t think of her like that, like a-” He swallows loudly, adam’s apple bobbing with the action, and shakes his head. “Echo’s just - someone separate. We don’t talk about our personal lives, not really.”

“She’s separate?” Clarke asks quietly, “Or we are?”

He reaches for her again, and this time Clarke lets him rest a hand on her shoulder. “Clarke, no-”

She looks down, shaking her head, and he stops talking. They stand like that for a few moments, stuck in some kind of limbo where Clarke doesn’t know whether to continue to be angry and hurt, or allow him to comfort her.

But she needs him to understand, so she shrugs him off and continues.

“Gemma is _the most_ important person in my life, Bellamy. And I let you into our lives; into our family.” He shudders a little, a tear rolling down his cheek. He doesn’t bother the brush it away. “You told me you were serious about this and I trusted you. But - but what am I mean to think now, Bell?” She closes her eyes at the nickname, wishing it didn’t slip so easily from her lips, and swallows the lump in her throat. “That you’re only half in? That you want to lead these two different lives - one where you’re a father who loves his child, and the other where you pretend she doesn’t exist?”

“No,” he exhales shakily. “Please don’t think that about me, Clarke. I’m - I’m sorry,” he swallows. “I’m in this, all the way. I didn’t mean to make you think otherwise. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispers, letting more tears fall. He looks up to her, eyebrows quirked, confused. “I’m sorry for Gemma,” she continues. “Because she doesn’t deserve this. My daughter - no, _your_ daughter, Bellamy - doesn’t deserve to be kept a secret.” Bellamy looks like he’s going to be sick, and Clarke almost feels bad for the harsh words. She knows he feels guilty, but she continues anyway. “She doesn’t deserve to have anyone _ashamed_ of her.”

“I’m not ashamed,” he says harshly, strongly. “Don’t fucking say that I’m ashamed of her.”

“And what the fuck am I meant to think?” She asks, incredulous, voice getting louder. “Seriously, Bellamy? Look at this from my perspective and tell me what I’m meant to think instead?”

“That I made a mistake,” he yells. “I had a life changing bomb dropped on me, and I didn’t know how to tell the girl I’m casually sleeping with. That I made a mistake, but I would never be ashamed of my daughter.”

He looks sincere, looks equally disgusted with the word as Clarke feels, but she can’t accept it. 

“You know what’s funny?” She asks, not expecting or receiving an answer. “You thought I lied about her existence - that I kept her from you - and you were fucking furious. And now I _know_ you lied about her existence, and _I’m_ the one that gets to be angry and betrayed. Funny how life works like that, isn’t it?”

“Clarke,” he tries again, but she cuts him off with a harsh shake of the head.

“I brought you into my life, Bellamy. Fully. I was there for you when you met my daughter, my family and my friends. I _told them_ that you were a good guy.” He blanches, and this time the guilt of her words makes her backtrack. “You are a good guy, Bellamy. I’m not - I’m not questioning that.” She releases a shaky breath. “But now…I don’t know. I don’t know how you wouldn’t want to share the fact that you have a daughter with people. Maybe you’re not ashamed but you’re - you’re something,” she shakes her head. “You’re not in this completely, even if you say you are. Because someone who’s in this completely - they wouldn’t do this.”

“Clarke,” he steps forward and cradles her face so gently, wiping away the tears that are still rolling down her cheeks. 

She leans into the touch, as much as she doesn’t want to, and lets herself be pulled into him. His hands move to her shoulders and her cheek rests on his chest. It’s not an embrace, not really. It's just comfort in proximity; in touch. And she wishes she didn’t crave it, _especially_ from him, but - he’s still Bellamy, and as much as she wants to keep screaming, to yell at him for betraying her trust, she’s just - _tired_.

“I’m in this completely,” he tells her. “I am. I love her, Clarke and I’m - I’m in this, alright?”

Clarke steps back from his, hating herself for saying the words she’s about to. “I can't trust you.”

“Clarke-”

“No, Bellamy. You’ve lost my trust. Not - not all of it, but - but I can’t trust what you say completely anymore.” 

They’re stand in silence for a long minute, Bellamy looking like he’s been slapped in the face, eyes brimming with tears once more.

“Okay,” he breathes out eventually. “I’ll have to earn that back.”

Clarke nods, wiping her own face. “I think that I need some space,” she says quietly. “I need to figure out how we’re going to continue after this. I need to make sure that whatever happens, Gemma’s going to be okay. I can’t let her get hurt again.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Clarke-”

“You get that, right?” She interrupts. “You made _me_ hurt her as well. Because I _let_ this happen, Bellamy. I trusted you so easily and so quickly. I didn’t protect her when I should’ve. That’s on _me_.” She exhales a breath. “And telling Gemma who you are? Do you think I can do that now?”

His face goes slack, eyes widening. “Clarke, no-”

“What do you expect, Bellamy?” She yells. “Do you want me to tell her that you’re her father? When I know that you’re her father that didn’t think to mention her to the girl he’s fucking? I can’t tell her until I trust you again, okay? So whatever plans I had, they’re being put on hold.”

“You can’t keep it from her forever.”

“And I won’t,” she says, harsh. “This isn’t a fucking punishment, Bellamy. I’m not doing this because I want to be a bitch and fucking keep her from you. I’m doing this because right now, I don’t think you deserve the title. And yes, it’s my fucking call,” she adds when he opens his mouth. “I’ve been with her since she was _born_.” It’s harsh, she knows that, but it’s the truth. “This isn’t forever, okay? But I can’t tell her who you are when I’m not confident you won’t decide that this - that _she -_ isn’t for you.”

“Do you really think that?” He asks, grating. 

“You’re the one who puts doubts in my mind,” she reminds him coldly. 

“Fuck, Clarke.”

“And it’s more than that,” she continues, mind going a mile a minute with all the things she’s worried about. “Because even though you did this, and I’m so fucking angry and upset, I don’t want everyone else to think badly of you. I integrated you into my whole fucking life, Bell, and now I have to deal with everyone’s questions about you. Do you think I want them to hate you? Because I don’t. But they’re not going to trust you now, and _I’m_ going to have to deal with that. Not just you. And Octavia and Lincoln? They know everyone now, too, and I will fucking bet you that they're going to be pulled into my group as well, because that's just what we do. So it’s not just me and Gemma that I have to worry about, it’s fucking _everyone_. I’m going to have to mediate so many fucking people - make sure Raven doesn’t talk shit about you. Or Miller or Murphy. _I’ve_ been put in this fucking position - by you," she emphasises the word by pushing a finger into his chest.

Bellamy scrubs a hand over his face, looking absolutely defeated.

“And I probably won’t even say anything,” she adds after a minute, softly, and he whips his eyes back to her. “It’s easier for me that way,” she shakes her head. “And I don’t actually want to hurt you, Bellamy. I don’t want to make this more difficult for you.”

She walks to the lounge room, falling down onto the couch with a slump. She’s tired, emotionally drained from this fight. Bellamy follows, sitting on the same couch, yet the space between them is further than it has been since she’s known him. 

They sit in silence for minutes, Clarke’s mind jumbled with so many thoughts, so many emotions. She knows Bellamy’s not a bad guy, and she _wants_ to trust him. But she can’t. It’ll come with more time, she’s sure - but right now, she just can’t.

“I just don’t understand how you could do this to her, Bellamy,” Clarke says shakily as her tears start coming again. “How could you? Is she - is there something you don’t like about her?” She wants to throw up. “Because I just don’t understand.” A silent sob wracks her body, and she brings her knees up to her chest, hugging herself. “You said she’s perfect and she _is -_ I know she is - but if you don’t really think that, then-“ she swallows “-you need to tell me. If you aren't going to stay, you need to let mw know. Because I can’t do this. I can’t let her get hurt. I can’t let myself get hurt. It’s - it’s just too much.”

He looks like his heart is breaking - just how Clarke feels - and shakes his head.

“She is perfect,” his voice is hoarse with tears. 

He slowly moves closer to her, letting her back away if she wants, before pulling her into him, an arm around her shoulders as her head rests against his chest. She shakes with her sobs, and he rubs her back soothingly, holding her close until her breaths come more easily.

“I’m so sorry, Clarke,” he says, sounding so sincere it hurts. “I’m so sorry. She’s perfect and I love her so much, I do. I’m sorry you don’t see it anymore. I’m sorry.” 

Clarke’s not sure how long he repeats his apologies, but she knows that she’s cradled into his body for a long time. Eventually she lifts her head, and looks to him. His face is tear stained and his eyes are blood shot. She hates herself for being the cause of his despair, but she’s still so upset with him. And herself. She feels guilty for being angry, because he’s sorry. She knows that he’s sorry, but what he did cut her so deeply. Maybe if it was just her, she could forgive him straight away; tell him that it’s okay as the first _sorry_ left his lips. But it’s not; it’s her daughter, and Gemma deserves more.

“I need some time,” she says quietly. “And space.” 

Bellamy nods, lets his arm fall from her body and shuffles further down the couch, away from her. 

“I understand,” he responds, voice rough. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“Thanks.”

He huffs a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving her, though,” he promises. “I’ll give you whatever time and space you need, I’ll let you call the shots, but - but you need to know that I’m not going to let either of you go. No matter what.”

She nods, swallowing before she lets out a shaky breath. “I think you should leave. I need to pick up Gemma from creche, soon.”

“Okay.” He stands up slowly and Clarke follows him to the front door. “Just - just let me know when I can see you; see her.”

Clarke nods. “I’m not trying to punish you, Bellamy,” she reminds him. 

“I know that.”

“Okay.” She raises a hand to his arm, stroking it with her thumb for a few moments, before dropping it. He opens the door, giving her one last look as she says “I’ll see you around, Bellamy,” and leaves.

Clarke exhales a deep breath, closing the door behind him and dropping to the floor, feeling the tears well up again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy? I tried to give you a little fluff before the angst/feels came.  
> Were you happy with the confrontation? Do you agree with Clarke or think she's still overreacting?  
> I didn't want to leave you with it all sorted out, because I think that Clarke needs to sort her head out, so she might have a little break from seeing Bellamy.  
> Next chapter: Octavia/Clarke interactions + whatever else I feel like.  
> Also I know that you can't book camping without heaps of notice, but let's just forget about that minor detail.  
> Comments are fantastic as always!!!  
> 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was debating whether or not to write an A/N but alas, here we are.  
> Firstly, Merry Christmas to those who celebrate (because it is the last 10 minutes of Christmas for me while I'm writing this) and if not, happy holidays to everyone else.  
> There were a lot of comments left on the last chapter which is always great to see - it certainly worked some people up. I know it's been a while since I've updated, but I needed a little break from this fic and was really enjoying writing some other AUs.  
> Part of me feels the need to justify why I wrote the last chapter how I did, but I'm just going to leave it at this: Clarke is a human. Humans are emotional. Sometimes they overreact. Sometimes they say shit things. As for Bellamy, I'll get to that at a later stage.  
> This chapter is shorter than most (just over 4k words, so - sorry), and is mostly going through Clarke's thoughts and feeling about a week after the fight/confrontation.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

“So, how’s Bellamy?”

“What?” Clarke asks, absent, as she rummages through the everything cupboard.

Raven kicks her in the leg, which is entirely unhelpful (not that Raven ever really _is_ helpful - Clarke shouldn’t be surprised).

“I said how’s Bellamy?” She repeats.

Clarke shrugs, “Fine, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” Raven says, her tone disbelieving. “You want to try that again?”

Clarke huffs a breath, walking to the kitchen to grab a dining chair and dragging it back to the cupboard. She steps onto it, cursing her parents for giving her short genes, and searches the top shelf.

“It’s at the back on the third shelf,” Raven supplies after a minute. See - unhelpful.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Rave?” Clarke grumbles. She’s been looking around the house for the past fifteen minutes. “And you didn’t tell me why?”

“Thought it was funny” She offers, shrugging. Clarke wants to hit her.

“You’re such an ass,” she says, finding the box easily after that.    


It’s hot. Over 90 in fact, and the power going out in her area has made the inside of her apartment close to unbearable. Which means that Clarke has one sulking Gemma and one sulking Raven on her hands, both of whom are very hot without the air con. Hence why she's searching for the inflatable pool - the one that Raven decided to be an asshole about, even though she’s also hot (seriously, the lengths that Raven will go to to be an asshole are pretty impressive).

“So, Bellamy,” Raven prompts once she’s taken over the figuring-out-how-to-pump-up-the-pool from Clarke.

“We had a fight,” Clarke admits, eyeing her daughter. She’s sprawled out on the couch, buck naked save for the face washer Clarke keeps running cold water through that’s sitting on her stomach. She looks completely dead to the world.

“Shit, seriously?” Raven hisses. She looks up from the instructions for the air pump (she’s thrown them away twice and had to pick them back up twice. It seems like it shouldn’t be this difficult, but apparently the world wants to be a bitch today. Or more correctly, apparently the inflatable pool wants to be a bitch today), and eyes Clarke, expression worried.

“Yeah,” Clarke sighs. It’s been less than a week, and while she’s had some time to think and calm down a bit, they haven’t spoken, so nothing’s really been resolved. And she hates it, honestly. She hates that there’s something lingering - the mixed sense of dread and guilt and anger burning a pit within her stomach. If she thinks about it for too long it makes her feel sick, so - well, she’s trying not to think about it. Which means that talking it out with Raven isn’t really something she wants to do, but the girl never gives her much choice in these matters.

“When?” Raven asks, finally attaching the pump to the deflated pool. She hands it over to Clarke, because apparently _now_ it’s on her to get the thing going. 

“Sunday. Or Monday, I guess,” she says, starting to pump it up. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Clarke sighs. “Because I needed time to figure shit out for myself before bringing in the big guns.” She smiles wryly at Raven, and the girl rolls her eyes in return. 

“So a big fight? On a scale of one to ten where would you rate it?”

“I don’t exactly have a reference,” she grumbles. “It’s not like I’ve ever had a fight with him before - I don’t know how to rank this.”

Raven throws a small pool toy at her - it’s a sea dragon she’s pretty sure, and honestly one of the better ones they have around the house. 

She tuts. “But in general, how bad are we talking?”

“In a word: bad.” 

“Shit.”  


“Yeah,” Clarke sighs. “I just - it _was_ bad. We were yelling and I remember crying and I feel like I overreacted but I also feel like I didn’t, because all I was trying to do was protect Gemma. I’m just - confused, honestly. And I needed to think everything through and process it myself before getting anyone else involved, you know?”  


“I getcha, babe. So what happened?” She asks cautiously.

“I, um,” she eyes Gemma again - the girl still paying no attention to them - and continues, “I went over to his house and Echo was there.”

“Seriously?” Raven gapes, “shit.”

“Please don’t say ‘I told you so’, okay? I know I should’ve already talked to him about it.”

Raven puts her hands up in surrender and offers a small smile. 

“So how did you go from seeing her to having a fight? Cause I’m not gonna lie, babe, you can’t really be upset if he’s seeing someone.”

“He’s only sleeping with her,” Clarke says with a roll of her eyes. She’s not counting that as a point in favour of him. “It’s not that, though. It’s - she didn’t know who I was, Rave. She literally knew me as the girl that caught her buying condoms, and,” she sighs, “I don’t know. He’s been sleeping with her for at least three months and didn’t mention anything about me or Gem. And before you say anything, it’s not like I wanted her to meet Gemma or anything, but—”

“Mummmyyyyy.”  


Clarke stops her rant, turning to her daughter. She’s pouting ridicuously.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Juice.”

Clarke sighs. “Juice, please.”

“Pleeeaaaase,” Gemma whines, and Clarke can’t help but agree. She wants to whine as well - it’s way too hot in here.

“Rave?” She asks, but Raven’s already on it. “You can make us some piña coladas, too, before everything in the fridge gets warm.”

Raven snorts. “That’s the worst excuse for drinking I’ve ever heard,” but she pulls out the bottle of rum anyway.

Clarke shrugs - it’s true, really - and continues getting the inflatable pool up. It’s bigger than she remembers, but she also has vague memories of thinking the same thing every single time they get it out. She rolls it through the back door and out to their small courtyard, which has enough room for the small herb garden Clarke tends to sporadically, the barbecue that Marcus insisted she have and the outside table that he actually _made_ for her (it’s pretty damn cool). She drags the table to the side of the courtyard and settles the small pool on the concrete tiles, pulling out the hose to fill it up.

Gemma runs out, still completely naked (but now with a lather of sunscreen that Raven must’ve put on) once it's almost full, and Raven follows with a jug, a bottle of rum, and two glasses. Raven and Clarke strip to their underwear (only because Raven wouldn’t allow Clarke to wear bathers if she couldn’t) and settle into the small pool with Gemma and a piña colada each. 

It’s nice. Well more correctly - it’s cold, which by default means it’s nice. The cool water feels ridiculously good when it's so hot, and Gemma enjoys playing in it as much as she always does. Clarke’s honestly considering just keeping it outside for the summer, because it’s the first one she’ll spend with Gemma that isn’t at her mum’s - with the large spa bath inside. 

Still, it’s sunny and warm, which is a combination that equals sleepy, so it’s only half an hour later that Gemma’s fighting sleep. Clarke puts her down eventually, reading her _The Paper Bag Princess_ and trying not to think about how Bellamy always loved story time.

When she makes her way back outside Raven’s transferred onto a towel, sun baking without her bra “to avoid tan lines.”

Clarke snorts a laugh, pouring herself another glass (sans alcohol), and joins her friend.

“You know that people who live above me can see us through their window?”

“So? I’ve got a nice rack.”

“Just thought I’d mention it,” Clarke grins, plopping a sunhat over her face. 

It’s only two minutes until Raven finally prompts, “Continue,” and Clarke doesn’t have to ask what she’s talking about to know. She could be difficult (and kind of wants to be) but it’s too hot to deal with Raven possibly wrestling the information out of her (and she _really_  doesn’t want some creep videoing them half naked and wrestling).

“So,” Clarke sighs, adjusting the hat so her voice isn't muffled. “What I’m saying is - is that I don’t want anyone Bellamy’s seeing, let alone sleeping with, to actually _meet_ Gemma. Like, not _anyone_ obviously, but in this instance, it’s not like I’m all aboard the ship to have Echo come into my life, or my daughter’s.”  


“But?”

“ _But,_ he didn’t even _mention_ us. Which - okay,” Clarke huffs out a breath, trying to get her thoughts in order. “Emotions were running high - like, very high - and now that I’ve had some time to think it over, I get that he might not’ve said anything because it wasn’t his place or because it wasn’t serious enough to. But at the same time, I can’t help but feel like he’s keeping her a secret for his own benefit. I just - I’m worried, Rave. I’m worried that I rushed into this whole thing and he’s going to cut and run, decide he doesn’t want to be in this.”

Raven turns onto her side, propping her head up on her hand and presenting her breasts to Clarke without a second thought. Clarke’s seen what Raven ironically calls ‘the girls’ (although Clarke thinks it’s not so ironic) probably hundreds of times before - they did live together - so isn’t all that fazed.

“I understand being worried, babe, but honestly? I can’t imagine Bellamy leaving. I've only seen them together a few times, but he’s in love with that girl, Clarke. He won’t want to leave her after all the time he hasn’t known her.”

Clarke mirrors Raven’s position, taking a sip of her drink before speaking. “But I can’t _know_ that. I just keep running through this same memory from when he told me he wasn’t a commitment kind of guy. And I know it’s been three years and this is a totally different context, but he still _said that_ to me. He said that to me to convince me I wouldn’t want to _date_ him. But what? Now I’m just meant to think he’s able to be a dad? Being a parent is a million times more difficult than dating.” 

She breathes out a deep breath, turning to lie on her stomach. It’s been a long week and she's tired. It’s her first day off from her job since finishing the semester, which has meant a lot of down time at work spent sorting through her thoughts and feelings. 

Clarke’s stubborn, you see. She’s stubborn and often strong-headed, which in this situation means she may’ve overreacted. She doesn’t think she’s in the wrong really, because the thought that Bellamy could be leading any sort of double life, or that he was ashamed of her daughter makes Clarke feel physically sick, but. She gets that his intention wasn’t to hurt Gemma or her, and that that assumption wasn’t very fair of her.

“It’s just - the thought of him coming around and playing dad before going home and fucking some chick? It feels _wrong._ And they’re not even in a relationship - so yeah, now that I’ve thought about it I understand why he wouldn’t tell her - but it’s been three months. Two of which he’s known about Gemma. So I’m just wondering how many times they hooked up before we went to the park, or after we had dinner. Which, yeah - probably not my place, but it’s like we’re just this _side part_ to his life. We’re not, or Gemma’s not,” she amends, “his main priority. She’s just there in between going to work and getting laid. And she opened his _door_ , which seems like, super domestic if I’m going to analyse it.”  


“Which you are.”  


“Which I am,” she grants. “What do you think?”

“I think that you’re a super protective mama bear who doesn’t want to let anyone hurt Gemma.”  


“And?”

Raven sighs, takes a long sip of her drink, as if she's gearing up. “I think that this is a really difficult situation you’re trying to navigate, and communication is key. If you’re worried about this stuff you should talk it out before you fight about it. Saying that, you haven’t really told me about the fight.”

“It’s a weird day when Raven Reyes tells me that communication is key,” Clarke teases, prompting a poked out tongue from her friend. “It was - it was bad, honestly, and a lot of the details are kind of lost on me now. But as a basic summary: Bellamy tried to text me on Sunday to see what was wrong and I pretty much ignored him, so he turned up the next day. Gem was still at creche because I’d just come from work so I invited him inside. He was pretty pissed at me,” she sighs, remembering how he yelled, how his jaw clenched and eyes darkened. “He didn’t think I was ever being real with him, which might be fair - I don’t know. But he was annoyed that I was put together and like, trying to make his life easier, which just pissed me off, because _one of us_ needed to be put together and he obviously couldn’t be that person." She shakes her head, getting off topic. "And then Echo came up, and I told him that Gemma deserved more than being ashamed of, which again, he was pretty pissed about.” She stands up from her towel and hops back into the pool, splashing the water over her already overheated skin. “I told him that I couldn’t trust him anymore and needed space. And I guess that was that.” 

She decides against telling her friend about Bellamy's title, because it's something that's still at war within her head. She'd rather speak to him directly, anyway.

Raven’s silent for a few moments, taking in Clarke’s words.

“Well fuck,” she says eventually, and an unexpected laugh bursts from Clarke’s mouth. 

“Pretty much.”

She follows Clarke into the pool, the water splashing her all over as Raven unceremoniously drops herself down. 

“Do you not trust him?” She asks, elaborating when Clarke raises an eyebrow. “I just mean - was it something you said because you were mad, or do you actually not trust him anymore?”

“I think that trust’s been broken,” Clarke says after a few moments of thought, watching her hands as they wring together. Her fingers are already pruney with the time spent in the pool, but she doesn’t mind all that much.“But I still trust him. I wasn’t trying to be cruel or anything - I really felt betrayed by what he did. But like I’ve said, now that I’ve had some more time to think it though, I can understand his reasoning. It’s just - I’m still worried, you know? I had this whole dumb idea that we were this family unit now; that Bellamy and I were in this together, even if we weren’t _together_ together. And this whole thing has just made me realise how naive that was, because of course it’s not going to be easy; of course he’s going to need time to adjust and is going to make mistakes. And so am I.” She sighs, leaning back on the edge of the pool. “This whole thing has just thrown a spanner into the works, though, and it’s just - it’s hard. Does that make sense?” Clarke asks, lifting her gaze from her hands to her friend.

“Yeah, it does. You had this idea of how things would pan out, and how that they haven’t gone to plan you’ve had to reconsider everything,” Raven summarises.  


“Yeah.”  


“But that’s life, babe. Things hardly ever go to plan. But you readjust and move on.”

“You’re like my life coach or something.”  


“You’re such an asshole. I’m trying to be helpful.” She flicks some water at Clarke. 

“But you love me.”  


“Only sometimes,” Raven grumbles, although Clarke can see her biting back a smile. “And space?”

“Yeah,” Clarke breathes out, her heart immediately clenching. Because this is what she feels the worst about, the most guilty. “I said I wanted some space from him, which meant that Gemma would also have some space from him.”  


“Fuck. How’d he take that?”

Clarke sighs. “Surprisingly well in the end, but - well, not great at the beginning. There was a lot of yelling before we both calmed down a bit. I’m just torn about it all. Because on one hand all I want is to protect Gem. And feeling so uncertain about Bellamy at the moment is just making me feel like I need to protect her from _him_. But on the _other_ hand, she deserves to know him, and he deserves to know her. And I can’t keep them away from each other just because there’s a risk things will go badly.”

Raven whistles, lacing a hand through Clarke’s to stop her from wringing them together.

“Do you want to real talk?” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Clarke says, leaning her head on Raven’s shoulder.

“You can’t be upset about his private life,” she states bluntly. “In the same way that he can’t be upset about yours. If you’ve defined yourself as strictly co-parents, then he’s allowed to date or sleep with people. Saying that, I can understand that you’re feeling weird about him sleeping with someone casually. It’s - it’s odd, though, because…” She panders off, and when Clarke shifts her head she catches Raven worrying her lip.

“ _Because_ …” She prompts.

Raven huffs out a breath, eyeing Clarke a little warily before continuing.  


“I spoke to Octavia at the party.”  


“About me?”

“Kind of,” Raven sighs. “Well, about everything, but - Bellamy came up, obviously. And Octavia said he had cut off that casual relationship.”  


“She _knew_?” Clarke asks, incredulous. 

“I guess so,” she shrugs. “But she was pretty sure, so, I don’t know - maybe Bellamy told her? Or maybe she caught them or something? But the point is - apparently they were finished by the party. Octavia seemed pretty sure,” she adds when Clarke’s brows furrowed.

“I would be bragging about how right I was that you guys would get along so well, but. Fuck, this is just, I don’t know. Confusing.” 

“Yeah,” Raven agrees. “It may’ve been a one time thing, you know? One last rump in the sack.”

Clarke gives Raven an unimpressed look. “Delightful choice of words.” Raven just smirks and shrugs. “It’s just - if that’s true and they did end it, why would it start up again? Like, objectively speaking it’s odd.”

Raven snorts, which yeah, it’s fair. “ _Objectively speaking_? God, Clarke. This is - actually this is good. It’s bringing me to my next point.”  


“Which is?” Clarke sighs. This can’t be good.

“That you can’t be objective about this. And you’re…”  


“Just say it.”  


“Jealous?” Raven offers, looking ready for a blow.

“I’m not jealous,” Clarke insists. “Honestly, Bellamy can screw whoever he wants, that’s not my concern. It only concerns me when Gemma comes into things.”

“And you say that,” Raven presses on, voice a little hesitant, “but I think part of you is still jealous, because - you get this part of him, right?” She actually turns towards Clarke, starting to wave her arms while she talks. Clarke recognises the sign that her friend is gearing up for a speech. “You have the part of him where he’s the family guy - where he loves spending time with Gemma _and_ you, where he’ll cook dinner and you’ll go to the park or the zoo or the beach and read bedtime stories together. You have that, but - now there’s this other part as well. A part you used to have, even if it was three years ago, but now isn’t to do with you. And maybe that’s upsetting - finding that out - so you want some distance. Because there’s this part of him that’s yours, yes, but another part of him that isn’t. And god, Clarke - I remember when he left. You _liked_ him, and you were upset, and those feelings don’t just go away in the situation you’re in. So yes, I think that part of you is jealous. And I’m not saying that you aren’t looking out for Gem, because I _know_ that you are - you’re a great mum, babe, really. You’re looking out for Gem, but… do you think there’s a chance that you’re also looking out for yourself?”

And just like that, Raven’s dropped a truth bomb.  


And - well fuck, maybe it’s true. Because she _did_ really like him - she sometimes had to convince herself that she wasn’t half way in love with him by the time he left - and those feeling didn’t really leave, did they? They were different now, of course. But she still got along with him ridiculously well, she was still attracted to him, and the main thing that’s changed is Gemma - which. It’s not even a _bad_ thing - she loves watching him with their daughter. So yeah, she likes him - of course she likes him, she already knew that - it’s what she was so worried about at the beginning. But it’s different hearing it like this from Raven, and it’s different when she’s realising her own feelings could be clouding her judgement.

Gemma is still her main priority - she always will be - and while Clarke doesn’t like the idea of Bellamy sleeping with someone so casually (and this is honestly has nothing to do with her own feelings), she can’t exactly fault him on it. She’s still worried; all her doubts and insecurities still weighing on her chest. She has no real way to know how things are going to work out, and she just has to trust in the fact that Bellamy loves Gemma and won’t leave. 

“Has he done anything to make you question him staying?”

Clarke starts, realising she hasn’t spoken a word since Raven finished talking.  


“What?” She asks, her mind still reeling from the whirlwind of thoughts she’s just been subjected to.

“I mean, other than the Echo thing, has there been any reason for you to doubt his intentions of staying?”

Clarke thinks for a moment, realising that “No, not really.”  


“There you go,” Raven says, as if settling her case. “Just think about it.” She emphasises her point by closing her eyes and sinking further into the pool, leaving Clarke to do just that.

And she does. She thinks about how on board he was from the beginning - even with the less than pleasant introductions - and how guilt is still pulsing strong through his body. She thinks about how he lights up whenever he sees Gemma, and how she does the same; how she loves story time with him and he loves chasing her around until she’s breathless and giggling. She thinks about how he’s gone at whatever pace Clarke has set - happy as long as he can spend some time with his daughter - and how he continued to do that even when she called for the brakes. 

And she thinks about how other than not telling Echo about them - to which she’s already come to understand his reasoning for - he hasn’t done anything to put doubts in Clarke’s mind. She believed he would stay, that he’d be there - that they were in this together and Gemma would finally have a father. It’s just the festering worry that came from thinking he was ashamed, that he might not truly be ready for this commitment, that he would leave Gemma without a father (for the second time), that continues to put doubts in her mind. 

But that’s not entirely fair. She still needs to be cautious, yes, but she can’t take away the risk entirely. Not unless she cuts Bellamy out of their lives, and that’s not an option she’s willing to consider. He deserves to know Gemma, and she deserves to know him. They're family.

So she thinks about this through her time spent with Raven, through playing with her daughter in the pool alongside her best friend. She thinks about it later, once Raven’s left and the power's back on; when Gemma still decides against clothing even though it’s no longer hot inside. She thinks about it as she cuts up the fruit for afternoon tea, as she tries to focus on the book she’s been meaning to start for the past two months. And she thinks about it when she finally decides to pick up her phone and offer an olive branch.

_“Clarke?”_

She can’t ignore the mixed tone of utter relief and hope that surrounds his voice, and her heart clenches with it.

“Hey.”

_“Are - are you okay? Is Gem alright?”_

“Yeah,” she says, watching as her daughter flicks through a children’s book. “We’re fine. She’s fine, Bellamy.”  


_“Good. Good,”_ he sighs. _“Is there something - do you want to talk?”_

“Can I come over?” She almost interrupts, and is met with silence. “I mean, can _we_ come over,” she amends. “If you’re not busy or expecting anyone, Gem and I could come around for dinner? If you want.”

_“Yeah,”_ he says hastily. _“That’d be great, just - shit. Okay, everything’s a bit of a mess right now, so could you give me an hour? I can have some dinner ready by then.”_

“Sure,” she says with a soft smile. She can imagine him already thinking about what to cook. “Be there at six, then.”

_“Great. That’s - great, seriously. Thank you, Clarke.”_

“You don’t need to thank me, Bellamy, really. Just - we’ll talk alright? But - you don’t need to thank me. I’ll see you in an hour.”

_“See you then.”_


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee this got 15K hits that's super cool thanks guys!!  
> So I've officially worked out the rest of this story chapter by chapter, and we've still got a little ways to go. I know this is already a long fic, and while I don't want to drag it out, I really don't want to rush C/B relationship, and especially B/G relationship. So, you'll have to stick with me some more (around ten or so more chapters).  
> This is a C/B centric chapter with some Gemma/Bellamy fluff in the mix too. You can expect more "daddy!Bellamy" things soon, and getting even more domestic.  
> Hope you enjoy :)  
> Ps. I'm already thinking about doing another unplanned pregnancy fic cause they're my ultimate fave, but I should probably finish this one up first, yeah? It'll be a one shot, and completely different to this, but still. I'm a sucker.

“Hey, darling!” Bellamy coos as soon as he opens his door. Darling is one of his words. Along with princess, Gem, and monkey (usually with a prefix of cheeky).

His hands dart out to Gemma’s belly, tickling her and receiving a squeal of laughter in return. Clarke tries to enjoy the moment even with her ears ringing. Her daughter can be _loud._

“Bellme!” She giggles, squirming in Clarke’s arms with his continued assault.

Clarke chuckles, and hands her daughter over with a fond smile. Gemma snuggles into Bellamy’s chest as he stops tickling her, instead resting a hand on Gemma’s back to keep her close. He flashes Clarke a bright smile - his first acknowledgement, really - and it makes her heart clench in both relief and regret. 

“Come on in,” he tells Clarke, gesturing further into the house. She hasn’t made it inside before - only to the small veranda - so she’s curious to see what it actually looks like past the front door.

It’s decently sized and in good condition - a small entryway flowing into an open living area on one side, and some rooms on the other - and all together _warmer_ than she expected it to be. Which - she anticipated that there would be photos framed around the place (because the love he has for his sister is kind of ridiculous) so she’s not surprised there. But it’s also his big, red couch with patterned cushions and a knitted blanket thrown across it, the texts with bookmarks poking out of them stacked upon the coffee table one by one, the mess of papers that she assumes are from work spread across his dining room table, and the four - no, _five_ \- indoor plants she’s already counted. It’s warm and homey and lived in, and not really what she expected from a twenty eight year old bachelor. But it still feels like Bellamy, and it makes her smile. 

She turns around after inspecting the area to find Bellamy watching her nervously, as though her approval means something to him. She grins and he lets out a breath, offering a sort of helpless smile.

“Nice place,” she comments, her tone light and teasing. It’s miles away from where they last left off in person.

He huffs a laugh and lets Gemma down when the girl starts wriggling in his arms. “Thanks. O decorated most of it. Apparently I don’t have ‘the right eye’ for it.” He uses finger quotes while rolling his eyes, but his smile is fond and Clarke can see right through his facade of annoyance. 

“Didn’t get time to clean up?” Clarke asks, realising a beat too late that it’s sort of rude. She gestures towards the dining table in explanation, the surface clad in what looks to be hundreds of papers. She doesn’t understand how anyone could work in an office. Her eyes hurt just looking at it. (She ignores that her job also promises hundreds of papers that she’ll have to look through and correct. At least it’s not an office job. Okay, shut up.) 

“Ah, right,” he says, a hand moving to rub the back of his neck. It’s cute that he’s nervous, which is totally unhelpful. It’s doing nothing to soothe the nerves wracking her body. “Home office is going through some renovations.”

“Oh,” she says, taking out some toys she brought for Gemma and handing them over to the girl. “What’re you doing?”

“Just a colour change.” He still sounds nervous, a little bit sheepish even, like he’s embarrassed about it.

“Can I see?”

“Uh, sure,” he says after a beat. He nods to himself, as if needing to confirm it, and walks towards one of the rooms. 

It’s bigger than an office probably needs to be, but that might just be because all the furniture has been moved out. She can tell that it’s just been painted; the floor’s covered with plastic and there’s a wet sheen to the walls and ceiling. 

“Purple,” she states dumbly. It’s light, a pastel shade that reminds Clarke of lilacs. Once again not what she expected for his house, but it’s nice. 

“It’s her favourite colour, isn’t it?” Bellamy asks. Clarke raises her eyebrows when she turns to him, confused.

“What?”

“Gemma.” His hand is at the back of his neck again. “I remember you telling me that she loves purple, so I wanted to-” he shrugs, and it clicks.  


“Oh. _Oh._ ” A surge of warmth goes straight to Clarke’s heart. “Yeah, she loves purple.”

He nods, his expression washing with relief. “I’m not trying to push anything, but-”

“Bellamy,” she interrupts, a hand going to his forearm subconsciously. He stills and Clarke can see how his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, thick. “It’s fine. You’re not pushing or anything, just-” She sighs. “We’ll talk later, but go spend some time with Gem, okay?”

He nods again, and his face breaks out into a grin.

She closes the door behind her, leaning against it as she watches Bellamy start talking to Gemma again. The warmth is still spreading through her, overpowering the unease and regret she’s felt throughout the week. Because Bellamy’s making a room for her daughter in his house - _his_ daughter - and it’s something. A step, or a sense of permanence. The confirmation that he’s really in this. They need to talk - there are serious things that needed to be sorted out - but it’s something.

She can hear Bellamy’s soft voice as he talks to Gemma. She laughs at her daughter’s explanation of the day’s events.

“We swimmed today,” she tells him.

Bellamy grins, and she can tell he’s stifling a laugh. “Oh, you swam?” He expertly corrects. “That must’ve been lots of fun.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I play with Hopsy and Raven came!” 

“And who’s Hopsy?”

“My um,” Gemma looks up to Clarke, questioning.  


“Sea horse,” Clarke supplies, and Gemma nods solemnly. “Just a toy,” she adds when Bellamy looks confused. She walks towards them and flops onto the couch just above where Gemma’s sitting on the floor. “We got the blow up pool out because the power went out, didn’t we, Gem?”

“Yeah! 

“And Aunty Rave was very cranky because it was so hot.”  


Bellamy looks up and chuckles. Clarke rolls her eyes. 

“And little Gemma didn’t want any clothes. You’ve been a very naked button today, haven’t you, Gem?” Gemma giggles in response, her hands moving to cover her cheeks as she looks up to Clarke. 

Clarke pokes her tongue out and makes a face, her little girl letting out even more laughter. She glances back to Bellamy, and finds him watching them intently, something like awe sparkling in his eye. 

“Gem, why don’t you ask Bell to read something for you?” She prompts. She knows how much he enjoys reading to Gemma, and really, tonight is about the two of them, not Clarke. 

Gemma cheers an affirmation, a hand shooting to the sky like she’s on a quest. She walks over to the bag Clarke brought over and pulls out some books, handing them to Bellamy with a very polite _please_ once her mum reminds her.

“Ah,” he says with a grin, flicking through the books and deciding on one. 

He pats the space on the floor between his bent legs and Gemma sits down. She rests her back against his chest, snuggling in to get comfortable. Her legs are tiny as they stretch out in the middle of his bent ones, and Clarke only just holds back from sneaking a photo. She doesn’t want to ruin the moment. 

“ _The Paper Bag Princess,_ ” he reads, wry. He glances back up to Clarke, smiling, soft yet full of mirth, like it’s an inside joke between the two. Clarke can’t help but roll her eyes and grin. He doesn’t know the start of it. 

He begins reading, and Clarke leans back against the couch, letting his voice soothe her as her eyes drift shut. It’s been a hard week - hot, first of all, which calls for a restless daughter and an easily exhausted Clarke, and she’s been picking up extra shifts at the art store as well as helping Marcus with his filing and work records. The added anxiety of Bellamy hasn’t been doing her much good, so it’s a relief to at least be here. It’s a relief that he doesn’t seem actively angry or resentful (although she knows he would never act it in front of their daughter) and it’s a relief that he and Gemma are getting along as smoothly as always.

She picks up one of the books from the coffee table, _The Iliad_ \- fitting, she thinks with an internal snort - and flicks through the pages. It looks well worn, well read - with notes scrawled on the side and parts of text highlighted or underlined. The thought makes her smile - she can picture Bellamy with some reading glasses sliding down his nose and his brows furrowed as he writes down his ideas or opinions, making sure his insights aren’t lost on him or the rest of the world. 

She flips to the first page and begins reading. She remembers having to study some of the books back in high school, but the past seven years have hazed her memory.

She’s not sure how long she’s been immersed in the book - it can’t have been long really, but she still managed to get lost in the words - before she’s broken out of her concentration by Gemma.

“ _Muuuuum_ ,” she yells, slapping Clarke’s legs with her small yet effective hands.

“Ow,” Clarke chuckles, placing the book down and grabbing Gemma’s hands. “What’s up, button?”

“Dinner,” she whines, tugging Clarke’s hands to urge her to stand.

Clarke catches Bellamy’s eye as she stands and is lead to the kitchen by one determined little girl. He smiles again, the same one from before - she thinks it means something like _look at our daughter_ , and that thought alone causes Clarke’s heart to stutter.

“It’s just a simple pasta sauce,” Bellamy tells her, sheepish “Didn’t have much time to make anything better.  


“Shut up. Pasta’s always good.” Clarke says with an eye roll, and then adds “but sorry for the short notice,” because she feels a little guilty despite herself.

“No!” He insists, “I’m glad you called. Really glad, Clarke.” His smile is small but genuine, and Clarke’s guilt surges even more. He’s been good to her, giving her the time and space she’s needed even though she’s sure it would’ve been killing him to do so.

They sit at the couch because the dining table is still occupied, and Clarke lets Bellamy enjoy supervising Gemma’s very messy eating. The evening goes along easily, almost as though there never was a horrible fight or a week’s break. By the time it’s verging on eight Clarke can tell that Gemma is tired but wants to stay. She always does with him, really. She’s known him for two months yet she’s as smitten with Bellamy as she is with Wells. 

Clarke’s eventually able to wrangle her in, and the second her head hits Clarke’s chest the little girl sags against her. 

“She’s tired,” Bellamy chuckles, a hand running through her blonde curls.

“Yeah. She always is when it’s hot.” She smiles fondly at her daughter, pressing a kiss to her head of hair. “Thanks for having us over, Bellamy, really. It was - it was really nice. Seeing you and seeing you with her.”

“Yeah, it was. I missed her.” Clarke’s eyes close with the words, and he puts a hand on her arm. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Clarke says. She offers a smile before breathing out a deep breath. “We should talk, though. If you’re free on Sunday I can drop Gem somewhere and you can come over.”

“That’d be good.” He nods. “I know that O would love to see her,” he offers. Clarke worries her lip. “Or not.”  


“It’s not-” Clarke sighs. She wants to explain despite his amused expression. “Don’t you think it’d be weird letting her take Gem by herself before you even have?”

“I didn’t really think of it like that,” he shrugs. “But yeah, I guess it is a little weird.”  


“Look, if um - if Octavia wants to come around she can, and she can just keep Gem entertained while we talk.” 

“Okay, I’ll ask her. Sunday?”

“Yeah. Any time. We should be home all day.”

“Sounds good. I’ll text you.”  


“Sounds good,” Clarke echoes, smiling. 

Bellamy laughs and shakes his head. He kisses the crown of Gemma’s head and hesitates for a moment before pressing one to Clarke’s forehead. It’s short but warm, familiar in a way she doesn’t want to think about.  


“See you then, princess.” _Princess._

“See you then, Bell.”

**

_On our way. O is extremely excited, and I quote, will ‘squeeze  
_ _that little munchkin with all my force and never let her go’.  
Should be there in twenty._

_I guess I’ll say goodbye to my daughter forever then._

_Probably a good call._

_See you soon, Bellamy._

_:)_

**

“Little baby girl!” Octavia squeals as soon as Clarke opens the door.

She ignores Clarke as she barrels down the hallway and scoops Gemma up, peppering kisses all over her face. 

“Sorry about her,” Bellamy offers as he steps inside. 

“No worries,” Clarke says, amused. 

“I’ve told her, uh, why she’s here, I guess.” His hand cards through his hair and he somehow looks like he’s in a constant state of shrugging. She’s kind of glad though, that she’s not the only one feeling more than a little anxious about this conversation.

“Okay, that makes things easier then. Do you want something to drink?”  


“Cup of tea would be great, thanks.”

Clarke heads into the kitchen and flicks on the kettle. 

“Hey, O!” She calls out.

The girl jumps up and runs to the kitchen, full of energy as always, and tackles Clarke into a hug.

“Sorry,” she says when releasing Clarke, sheepish. “Got a little carried away with your munchkin, I guess.”  


Clarke laughs heartily; Octavia’s energy is quite contagious. “It’s fine. Do you want something to drink?” 

“Ooh!” She shoves her brother to the side and opens Clarke’s fridge, fetching out some milk and juice. “Can I have some juice?”

“Sure,” Clarke huffs a laugh. She grabs a glass and pulls out a sippy cup. “Gem will most likely ask for juice sometime this afternoon. Just give her one cup, and then only water, okay?”

“Awesome,” Octavia says, peppy. “I babysat when I was a kid, so I’m pretty much a pro. Plus elementary teaching probably isn’t all that different.” She chugs down her glass of juice.  “Anyway, I’ll let you two be. I’m going to go take a million pictures of that girl.” She turns away, and Clarke glances at Bellamy, sharing an amused moment with him. “Shit!” Octavia backtracks, turning back around. “Is that okay? I know some parents hate other people taking photos of their kids. It’s okay, yeah?”  


“Yeah, it’s fine, O,” Clarke laughs. “I’m pretty cool with my friends taking photos and putting them online.”

“Well in that case, Instagram it is!” With that declaration, she turns around and makes her way back to Gemma.

“I promise I didn’t raise her to have that much energy,” Bellamy tells Clarke, still watching his sister with a fond grin.

“Eh, she’s alright,” Clarke teases, knocking her shoulder against his. 

She makes their tea before nodding for him to follow her to her bedroom. She debated on whether to just talk at the dining table, but ultimately decided she’d prefer that Gemma wasn’t in the room. Her bedroom is relatively big, so it doesn’t feel intimate having him there (it helps that it’s a different bedroom from the one she slept with him in). There’s a small desk under her bedroom window, and she’s cleared it of the uni notes she hadn’t yet organised before he came. 

“So,” Clarke starts. “I have a _list_ of things we should probably talk about.” She glances up to Bellamy and smiles. “My attempt at a joke. Inappropriate sense of humour, sometimes.”  


“I’ll have to remember that,” he chuckles, wry. 

“Okay, but I actually do have a list of things.” She jumps onto her bed and leans over to the bedside table. She reaches for the notepad she half doodled, half made notes on last night, and brings it back to where they’re sitting. “I guess I’ll just start off by saying that this is probably going to be awkward, but we obviously need to talk, so, yeah.” She takes a deep breath. “Just make sure you bring up your own stuff if you want, okay?”

Bellamy nods and takes a sip of his tea. “Will do.”

She glances to the top of her list, although she already know what is says: _apologise._ She takes another deep breath; not because she can’t apologise, because she can. It’s just - she needs to frame this in the right way, needs to make sure he understands.  


“I’m sorry with how things went down last week,” she tells him, making sure to keep eye contact. “I’m sorry that I said things that hurt you, and I’m sorry about _how_ I went about the argument. We obviously both had to blow off some steam, and I know that I can be an asshole when I get riled up, so I am sorry.”  


Bellamy nods. “Thank you. And I’m sorry, too. For how things went down.”

She blows out a deep breath, her chest feeling a little less heavy as it goes.  


“I’m - I’m trying to protect Gemma here, Bellamy. That’s my job as a mother, and it’s especially important throughout this whole transition, so. I’m sorry with how things went down, but I can’t apologise for wanting to protect my daughter.”

Bellamy nods. “I’m glad you’re protective, Clarke. I know what it’s like - after practically raising Octavia - to have someone who relies on you; someone you try to protect from everything. So, I get it. O’s called me overprotective many times in the past, and will probably continue to do so, so I do get it. She’s yours, and you don’t want to let anything bad to happen to her.”

Clarke smiles, glad he understands. “Yeah.” She sighs. “Look, after having some time to think and cool down, I can understand why you did what you did.”

“Not tell Echo?” Bellamy asks.

“Yeah.” She rolls out her shoulders, looks down to her hands where they’re wringing together in her lap. “I can understand why you didn’t tell her. If you felt it wasn’t your place, or it was your way to protect Gemma yourself, but. Part of me worried - part of me _still_ worries - that it was because you weren’t all in. I just don’t want Gemma to get hurt. _I_ don’t want to get hurt either, and we’ll both be hurt if you leave.” She looks up to him, his eyes are wide and boring into her own. “You get that, right?”

He nods, his hands coming to hers to stop them from wringing together. He takes one in each and holds on.

“I’m not leaving, Clarke. I’m not leaving either of you. I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?” Clarke nods. “Okay.” He breaths out a large breath, his face visibly relaxing. 

She swallows, not sure what to do with her hands now that they’re in his. They're warm and comforting. They make it easier to continue.

“I’m not saying you can’t date,” she says. His hands tighten their grips for the briefest of moments. “Or,” she huffs out a breath, awkward. “Whatever else. It’s not really my business, is it? It’s just - I don’t want Gemma to be a side piece of your life. I don’t want her to think that someone was ashamed of her because they didn’t mention her, or because they didn’t think of her. And it’s not about Echo.” It is though, isn’t it? That’s part of the truth bomb Raven dropped. She is jealous. She’s jealous of Echo and that’s just - messy. 

“This is super wanky, I know that, but it’s about what she represents.” Bellamy huffs out a laugh, and Clarke offers an almost desperate smile. “To me she represented you not wanting other people to know; not really wanting to commit. And I’m not saying I want people you’re…seeing, to meet Gemma. I don’t. Not until I meet them, at least. But it also feels weird that someone you’ve known for months and have been…whatever, doesn’t know about something that I assumed to be one of the biggest things in your life.” She pulls her hands away to scrub over her face. “Fuck this is awkward,” she breathes out, hiding behind her hands. 

Bellamy laughs, a hand darting back to rub his neck. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Just - do you get what I’m saying?”

“I get what you’re saying,” he confirms, nodding. “And I’m sorry that I made you think Gemma isn’t _the_ most important thing in my life. Because she is. And about…Echo. Fuck,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “It was too casual to say anything to her, and.” He sighs, offers a rueful expression. “Talking about my sex life is fucking awkward, isn’t it?” Clarke barks a laugh, nodding. “But it’s over, so.” He sighs, nods once. “It’s over.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, sounding as awkward as she feels and he looks. “We can, um, stop talking about that if you want?”

He laughs. “Yep, that’d be cool.”

They both take a drink of their tea, just to have a break she’s sure.

And despite feeling awkward about everything, she does feel better. It’s hard - there’s no real guide for how they’re supposed to deal with their situation, and honestly, sometimes she does feel her twenty five years. Just because she has a daughter - a daughter a lot of people would argue she’s too young to have - doesn’t mean she doesn’t experience it all; doesn’t mean she doesn’t _feel_ it all, doesn’t let it eat away at her stomach and gnaw on her mind.

There’re a range of emotions she’s feeling towards Bellamy - ones she’s not ready to acknowledge and others she can no longer ignore -and she can’t completely push them down to look at the bigger picture. She liked Bellamy, _likes_ Bellamy, and it’s hard now that she’s acknowledged it fully. She still has Gemma as her top priority, and her relationship with Bellamy comes second to that, but. It’s hard. It’s _hard._

“Since I let you go on a rant, am I allowed to?” Bellamy asks.

“Sure,” Clarke says, gesturing for him to begin. 

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath, and she’s not sure what it holds. “I guess I didn’t give you any real reason to believe I wouldn’t leave. I mean, not a _real_ reason, but a formal one? We haven’t talked about ‘making this official’, have we?”  


Clarke worries her lip, shaking her head. “Not really.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “So I can understand that you could feel that way. It’s not like I haven’t up and left before, is it?” He rakes a hand over his face, looks tense. “I left you once with Gemma and you couldn’t contact me, so I can understand why you may have doubts.” He raises his gaze to look at Clarke. She can feel the sheen of tears in her eyes. He’s still so pained about the past; still feels so guilty. It breaks her heart, but she knows that part of his words are true. He did leave once, and maybe that’s why she’s worried he could do it again. “It’s different now, I know, but I still haven’t given you anything tangible. And - I wish my word was enough. That’s not a dig at you,” he quickly adds when she blinks, a few tears escaping. “It’s not about you, Clarke.” He takes her hands again, his voice soft. “It’s about Gemma, and that’s why you need more. I know that.” 

He brings a hand to wipe away the few tears that stray down Clarke’s cheek, and she longs for the touch once it’s gone. She longs for all the touches. She longs for that comfort, that warmth.

“Hey,” he says, soft and inviting. She opens her eyes and he smiles. “It’s okay.”  


Clarke nods, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She rolls her eyes and wipes them. She didn’t feel like an easy crier until recently.

“Hey,” he laughs. “Don’t apologise. You’re fine.”  


“Ugh,” she groans. “I _am_ sorry. I’m sorry this is awkward and shitty and I’m sorry I was a bitch. I wasn’t trying to be but I know I can be harsh and - I want you in Gemma’s life, Bellamy. I don’t want to take her away from you because I’m scared, so I’m sorry that you thought that’s what I was doing. I think some space was good, but I’m still sorry.”  


“Space was good, Clarke. We both got to think our shit through. It’s better than continuing a fight without getting anywhere, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. It was a fight but it’s over. You were a bitch and you broke my heart, but we’re cool.” She knows he’s teasing, his tone and expression letting her in on the joke.  


“Asshole,” she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“You said you liked that kind of humour!” 

Clarke laughs, feels the tension leave her body. She hates fighting, which. It’s funny, because she’s good at it and used to do it _a lot_ , but she does hate it. It leaves her feeling tense and gross and sad with no resolution.  


“I’m serious though, Clarke. We had a fight but now we’re talking about it. You apologised and I accepted. I apologised and you accepted. We don’t need to keep feeling shitty about what happened, we just need to learn from it. Like maybe communication is something we should work on.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”  


“I’m always right,” he declares, nudging her knee and offering a grin. 

“So do you want to?” Clarke asks after a beat.

“Want to what?”

She worries her lip. “Make it tangible? Talk about this…long term?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’d be good.”

She blows out a breath of relief with the words, and they talk.

She feels like they’ve done this a lot, but they haven’t really. They haven’t really talked long term, and a warmth washes over her as they do. Because it’s another something. Just like the bedroom, it’s another step, another sense of permanence.  


They talk about Gemma’s birth certificate (Bellamy unnamed) and legally listing him as her father. They talk about how they’re going to continue meeting up in the coming weeks and months, what their schedules look like and what they’re ready for. They discuss Bellamy’s title, and when Gemma would find out, Bellamy accepting Clarke’s statement that she’s not ready just yet. They talk about Clarke leaving their daughter with him for a few hours, and further in the future to stay overnight - she asks about the room, and he confirms that it’s going to be Gemma’s. They discuss child support, and back payment from child support, and Bellamy’s role in childcare and healthcare. 

They talk and talk, about all the things that needed to be discussed and more. It’s long and serious, but she feels better for it. They aren’t doing everything immediately, but talking it through helps. It makes it more real for Clarke, and she thinks it makes it more real for Bellamy too. They don’t set up a solid timeline, instead agreeing to continue talking to work out when it’s best to start new new things and when Gemma would be comfortable enough with the changes. 

By the time they leave Clarke’s bedroom, Bellamy embracing her in a long and tight hug, two hours have passed. (Clarke’s relatively sure that Octavia’s snapped over a hundred photos.) 

Bellamy and Octavia decide to stay for dinner, and Clarke finds herself extremely amused by their relationship. They’re close, there’s no denying it, and it’s hilarious to watch them interact. Octavia is relentless in her teasing, and Bellamy mostly grins stupidly at her - it seems like a routine they’ve had going for years. They fight over Gemma, honest to god _fight,_ and the little girl revels in being the centre of attention. It obviously doesn’t hurt Gemma when the siblings both try to bribe her for love with bites of their dessert. That girl definitely has her mum’s cunningness. 

After dinner Octavia offers to help Clarke with the dishes, and as soon as the dishwasher is packed she pulls Clarke into a hug. Clarke embraces the girl back, honestly feeling relieved that she hasn’t gone to Angry, Defensive Sister mode. 

“Have you worked it out?” She asks as she pulls back.

“Yeah,” Clarke nods. Her gaze flicks to Bellamy and Gemma. He’s got a hand puppet on, and the crocodile he’s controlling is attempting to munch on Gemma’s face. It makes Clarke smile. “I think we did.”  


“Good,” Octavia sighs. “Good.”  


“I thought you’d be pissed,” Clarke admits. “You know, like last time.”  


Octavia grins. “Yeah, but now I know you aren’t the worst. I want to protect Bell - I always will - but it wasn’t about me, and I can’t always come to his defence.”  


“Is that what he told you?”

“Maybe,” she laughs. Clarke tries to bite back a grin. “I was pissed at Bellamy, though.”  


“What? Why?” Clarke asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I was furious about Echo,” she mutters. “Trust me when I tell you that he got a mouthful from me.” Clarke remains silent, not sure what she can add on without it meaning something more. It’s all very heavy _._ Octavia offers another grin, raising a hand to squeeze Clarke’s shoulder.  “But he’s staying, Clarke. There’s no way he’d leave, and there’s no way I’d let him.”  


“Yeah, I’m getting that,” Clarke teases. 

Octavia smiles, soft. “I’m serious though. He loves you both. He’s not leaving.”

_He loves you both._

_He’s not leaving._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope u enjoyed. Bring on the fluff and something that'll make you :/ at me next chapter.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I know this update took forever and I could give you lots of excuses but the truth is I lost motivation for it. Which lead me to reading the entire fucking thing and I'm just like @ me WHY DID YOU MAKE THIS FIC SO LONG AND WHY ARE YOU STILL PLANNING ON HAVING SO MUCH MORE STORY IN THIS STORY!?!?!  
> Anyway, with this chapter I'm over 100k words which is both cool and weird !!  
> I have the rest of the story very outlined and there's still a lot I want to do w it.  
> This chapter is Bellamy light but I think I make up for it w Clarke's internal monologue haha.  
> Enjoy!!

The following weeks return Clarke’s life to some semblance of normal. Well, the normal she’s come to find since Bellamy Blake has returned to her life.

It’s a Saturday at the end of July and Clarke’s following a running Gemma up the driveway to the now familiar steps to Bellamy’s house. They’ve been spending more time there since the original dinner a few weeks back, and it’s been interesting to learn what Bellamy’s like in his own territory.

He has a thing for history documentaries, she’s come to find. It’s not just the Netflix queue that she saw when flicking through one afternoon, but also the list titled _to be watched_ kept in place on the fridge with a magnet; the way Octavia groaned when Clarke brought it up at a picnic last week. He knows how to finger paint particularly well (well, as well as you can when you're finger painting), and is all round quite amazing at overseeing messy arts and crafts he insists they spend the afternoon constructing. His sister drops around his house unannounced a lot(Clarke’s already witnessed it three times), using the excuse of rummaging through his kitchen for food, though Bellamy says that she’s just been worrying about him more in the past few months (Clarke tries not to make the connection to her and Gemma’s (re)introduction to his life, but it’s glaringly obvious). And lastly, his backyard is a pretty perfect size for tiggy with a two and a half year old, and she can now add “father of my child fake wrestling on the ground with said child” to things that make her heart race (although she steadfastly ignores it). 

She’s got this whole thing sorted, clearly.

Bellamy opens the door before Clarke’s able to knock, a bright grin growing on his face as he crouches down and lets Gemma run into his arms with full force. He peppers kisses all over her face, something he quickly learnt makes her squeal with delight even when she wriggles her entire body in his grasp. Bellamy laughs heartily, winding his arms around the little girl so he can pick her up. 

“Hello, cheeky monkey,” he finally greets, kissing her once more on the forehead as he settles her on his hip, then “hey, Clarke.”

“Hey, Bell,” she smiles, following him inside.

“Hey, Bell,” Gemma parrots, pushing on his chest until he lets her down to run through the house. 

“Does she ever stop?” He asks, chuckling as he glances to Clarke.

“Almost never,” she admits with a grin. They watch as their daughter easily finds the basket of toys - a combination of ones she’s left here and others Bellamy’s recently bought - by the laundry and picks a few to settle on the floor with. “So,” Clarke says after a minute. “I was thinking of um, leaving Gem here for a few hours.”

Bellamy turns to her, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, nodding. “If you’re happy to then I think it’s a good idea. I mean, there’s not really a reason _not_ to, you know? Gem’s comfortable around you and it was going to happen eventually.”

“You know you don’t have to convince me, Clarke,” he teases, knocking his shoulder against hers. She smiles up at him sheepishly and he becomes more sincere. “I’d love to.”

“Awesome,” she says, giving him another smile before she walks over to Gemma. “Hey baby,” she says as she sits down next to her. “Mummy was thinking of leaving for a little while, and for you to stay here with Bellamy. Does that sound okay?”

“Yep,” Gemma chirps happily, running a toy car over Clarke’s bent leg. “I like Bellme.”

Clarke chuckles, glancing up to find the man in question watching the interaction with a soft smile. 

“That’s good, button. I’m sure he's got some fun stuff set up for you guys to do, and when I come back we can all have some dinner. How does that sound?”

“Good!”

“Great,” Clarke smiles. “Come on, gimme a hug and a kiss.” Gemma dutifully leans forward and presses a wet kiss onto Clarke's cheek, making her laugh. “Thanks, baby. I’ll see you later okay? Be good for Bell.”

“I will,” she sing songs.

“Good girl. I love you,” she replies.

“I love you,” she responds, smiling up at Clarke before becoming too invested in the toy cars she’s setting up. Clarke presses a kiss onto her daughter’s head before standing. She hands Bellamy the bag containing the usual supplies, and he accepts it with a smile. 

“Just text me if you need anything, but you should be fine.”

“Will do,” Bellamy assures, walking her back to the front door. “I’m sure I can handle the rascal for a few hours.”

“As long as you don’t give in to every request for sweets, I’m sure you can.”

Bellamy laughs, opening the door and letting her through. “Learnt my lesson the hard way, princess. I know better now.” Clarke rolls her eyes, but can’t help the fond smile that pulls on her lips. “Well I hope your afternoon is at least nice and relaxing without the little one.”

Clarke laughs. “Thanks, I’m thinking of watching something rated over PG. It’s exciting stuff.” 

“Sounds like it,” Bellamy replies, cracking a grin. “Really, have a nice day. We’ll see you in a few hours, alright?”

“Sounds good, Bell.” 

She gives him a quick hug before making her way back to the car, excited to spend the afternoon by herself. Not that she doesn’t like hanging out with her daughter, because she does, but it’s exhausting, and Clarke rarely gets to spend time by herself with no other obligations.

So when she makes it home she decides to draw herself a bath using the nice bath salts she rarely gets to indulge in, pour herself a glass of red, and load a few episodes of _Black Sails_ to catch up on. 

It’s surprisingly easy to let herself relax as the time passes. She was half expecting to feel on edge for the few hours she wasn’t with them; that this would be as much of a step for herself as it is for Bellamy and Gemma, but she’s able to refrain from continually checking the time or any messages or missed calls on her phone. It’s just - easy, really. And when she actually thinks about it, she wonders why she thought it wouldn’t be. 

It’s been almost a month since she and Bellamy had their serious conversation, and while it was difficult - heavy topics, awkward even - she’s felt a sense of calm that wasn’t there previously. While she had truly thought that how they were travelling was fine, since everything blew up she’s come to realise that a lot that they’d done and talked about was on a more surface level. Which was actually important to her in the end; it allowed Gemma to meet her father in a more relaxed setting than it could’ve been. But now that they’ve dug deeper she feels like they’ve managed to build something a lot better between each other and with their daughter, and even though it’s only been a few weeks, it’s comforting knowing that it’s a step in the right direction. 

And while part of her thinks that this particular step could’ve been taken a while ago, she’s glad that they’re taking it slow. It’s true that she’s left Gemma with people who’ve known them for a lot shorter of a time than Bellamy - Fox was nannying for them after an interview, a call to referees and a trial run - but they’ve never held as much weight as Bellamy does as Gemma’s father. And honestly, it’s nice to feel such certainty in the decision.

So she lets herself be; enjoying her afternoon doing nothing much at all, and at six she drives back to join the two for dinner. 

“How’d it go?” She asks as she packs up Gemma’s things. The little girl is close to passed out on Bellamy’s couch, though she’s making a valiant effort to stay awake until they leave. “Was she alright?”

“Yeah, she was good,” Bellamy replies, handing Clarke a few toys. He flashes her a grin, soft and a little shy. “Really good. It was - I’m glad we were able to do this.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“And I was - I was thinking that it might be a good idea to keep doing it.”

“Leaving Gem with you?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out as a family of sorts, but it’d be good if she got used to being with, well - just me.”

“I agree,” Clarke smiles, taking Bellamy’s hand and giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze. He smiles in return, and Clarke has to ignore how her heart swells with the word _family._ “I guess we could keep doing this once a week or so, and maybe I could leave for a little longer each time? See how it goes? I mean, ultimately the goal would be her staying the night, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he says, huffing a laugh. “This is all still new to me, but yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

Clarke nods, glad that they’re on the same page with how things are progressing. When she’s gathered all the books and toys, she turns around to see Bellamy gently picking up a sleeping Gemma in his arms.

“Here, I’ll walk you guys out.”

“Thanks,” Clarke smiles gratefully. 

He follows her out to the car, pressing a kiss to Gemma’s head after he gets her settled into the car seat.

“So I’ll see you Tuesday night for dinner?” 

“Yeah.”

“Alright, sounds good.” He steps forward and pulls Clarke into a hug, and after a beat she winds her arms around his waist to return it. “Thank you for today,” he says softly.

Clarke nods, smiling when she pulls away. “It’s fine, Bell. I’m glad we did it.”

“Yeah, me too. We’re getting better at this communication thing, you know?”

“We’re practically pros by now,” she agrees with a soft laugh. “I’ll see you Tuesday. Have a nice night, Bellamy.”

“You too, princess,” he grins. “See you Tuesday.”

**

_I think someone’s flirting w me._

_Omg details._

_Do you ever actually work?_

_Almost never. Spill._

_Okay, so this girl has come in like five times in the past three  
weeks. Nobody needs that many art supplies do they?_

_Probably not, but she might just have bad foresight. What’s  
happening?_

_She just came in again and smiled at me. Like that smile. Super  
coy. You know that smile? And then I was like oooooohhhhhh _

_Bc it’s been so long and I can’t recognise people flirting w me.  
And I think she has been._

_Again, I’m bad at this._

_I’ve noticed. Are you flirting back?_

_Idk. Maybe? Now that I think about it the flirting was probably  
reciprocated._

_And are you flirting back because you’re at work and feel like you  
have to? Or are you into it?_

_I think I’m kinda into it._

_She’s cute._

_Omg go for it._

_I’ve missed getting you ready for dates._

_It’s been so long._

_How do you date?_

_Okay I think I’m getting ahead of myself I don’t even know her  
_ _name._

_Omg she’s coming over._

_Bye bye bye._

_How do you flirt?_

_You’ll figure it out._

“Me again,” the woman says just as Clarke finishes reading Raven’s last (completely unhelpful) text. 

Cute probably isn’t the right descriptor for the woman Clarke realises as she looks at her in the new light of not being fucking oblivious. She’s slim, with a narrow face and high cheek bones, dark blonde hair in braids that remind her of Octavia’s. _Hot_ might be more appropriate. 

She places some tubes of paints and a glue gun on the counter, and Clarke’s honestly confused about the kind of project she’s working on. 

“Hi,” Clarke says a little shyly, because now that she knows what’s going on she’s obviously going to be a lot more awkward about it. Apparently that’s just how she is. Three years out of the game has unsurprisingly left her with none. 

She scans the items through and tells the woman her total, flashing a shy smile when they fumble while exchanging some coins. It feels like such a cliche, honestly. 

“Thanks,” the woman says, picking up her purchases. “I’m Niylah, by the way.”

“Clarke.”

“I know,” she grins, amused. “You’ve got a name tag on.”

“Right,” Clarke laughs, hand absently going to feel the small badge. When the woman - _Niylah_ \- lingers, she decides she may as well put in some effort. “So, um, I have to ask. What’s with the array of art supplies you’ve bought in the past month? They don’t really seem like they could all be part of the same project.”

“You mean you don’t normally make things with feathers, clay and water colours?” 

“I must be missing out.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” she replies, her teasing smile taking the edge off her mock serious tone. “I’m actually a nanny for a family with four children.”

“And it’s the school holidays,” Clarke says, nodding in understanding. She's lucky she'll have the same holidays as her daughter when she starts school, because three months is a long break to organise when you're working full time.

“Exactly. I would complain about having to make the same journey twice a week to buy new things, but the family’s rich and I’m paid way too much to be annoyed. And seeing you hasn’t been half bad, either.”

Clarke laughs, ducking her head to hide her quickly flushing cheeks, and they begin talking. Well, flirting really. It’s nice. Nice and familiar but new all the same, because she hasn’t really done _this_ for a few years. It gets her heart racing and her stomach fluttering; that tingling that screams exciting beginnings, so it’s odd where her mind lands when Niylah actually asks her out on a date. 

Bellamy.

It’s a combination of things; the fleeting worry that going on a date makes her a hypocrite, that this might be some sort of betrayal to both her daughter and to him. But she quickly reasons that this situation and the one she caught Bellamy in are completely different, and that she doesn’t owe him anything in this regard. Still, she can’t deny the large part of it. That after her discussion with Raven and the subsequent month of smothering _three years_ of lingering feelings that have somewhat returned, she knows she actually _likes_ him.

Likes Bellamy, the father of her child. Likes Bellamy, the guy she thought she could’ve even loved. Likes him but can’t do anything about it. Likes him but can’t risk his relationship with their daughter. Likes him and needs to move on.

So, “Yeah, I’d love to” she tells Niylah, and the woman’s bright smile almost makes up for how the words weigh on her chest.

Almost. 

**

Clarke drops Gemma off at her mum and Marcus’ before the date the following Sunday, and Gemma is met with the very excited and open arms of her grandpa. 

Clarke’s seen him a lot recently. With the three month break between academic years she’s picked up some more work with him, finding the additional time with her step-father nice. If it weren’t for Gemma she’s sure they wouldn't be as close as they now are, but just like she told him almost three years ago now, he’s Gemma’s grandpa, and it’s hard not to see him as a parental figure to herself as well. She’s always going miss her father, and she’s always going to be disappointed that Gemma won’t be able to meet him, but she’s glad that there’s someone who can still somewhat fill that hole in their lives.

“Grandpa!” Gemma exclaims as she runs into his arms, getting picked up high in the air so the whole street can hear a chorus of her squeals. 

“Hey little duck,” Marcus greets, letting her down to run through the house to Abby. “Work today?”

“No,” Clarke worries her lip for a moment before sighing. “I actually have…a date?”

“Really?” Marcus asks, eyebrows raised as he lets her step into the house. “Who with?”

“Um, just this girl I met while I was working. Her name’s Niylah.” 

"I think that's great, Clarke," Marcus smiles as he leads her into the kitchen.

"Thanks, Marcus.  Hey mum.”

“Hey darling,” Abby smiles, stepping away from the kitchen bench to embrace Clarke in a hug. “What time are you back today? Marcus and I were thinking of heading to the pier for the afternoon.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Gem will love that.”

“Yeah, we thought so too,” Abby replies, smiling fondly at Marcus. “Well, after work you can meet us here for a barbecue. It feels like that kind of day.”

“I’m not actually going to work.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ve - I’ve got a date.”

Abby looks up from where she's cutting up some fruit, her face mirroring the surprise Marcus’ showed just a minute ago. 

“A date?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Clarke,” Abby says, a grin breaking out on her face. “That’s fantastic. Why do you look like you were held at gun point when agreeing to it?”

“I don’t know,” she groans, hands moving to cover her face. “It’s been over three years since I last went on a date. I’m just - nervous. I’ve forgotten how to do anything like this.”

Abby laughs, not unkindly, and moves to take Clarke’s hand. “Oh darling. It’s like riding a bike or something like that. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.”

Clarke groans again, but this time it’s more dramatics than defeat. “You know that line wasn’t helpful when I was fifteen and it’s not helpful now.”

Abby laughs again, this time pushing Clarke towards the living room. She resists the steps just to be difficult, because sometimes she feels like being a petulant kid again. It sounds better than being a competent adult right about now. 

“Go say goodbye to your daughter and then go on your date. You’ll be fine.”

The sigh Clarke heaves is probably too big for her body, but she heeds to her mum’s advice and gathers Gemma up in a big hug, keeping hold of her for longer than she usually would, because while she rationally knows it’s not, something about dating feels like she’s doing wrong by her daughter. 

“Love you, baby girl.”

“Love you, mummy.”

She kisses Gemma only once more, because any more would actually make her _late_ for the date, and while she’s nervous she doesn’t want to be rude.

Her anxiety calms a little when she spots Niylah sitting at a table outside the cafe they agreed upon, looking lost to this world for her book’s one instead. It’s a relief knowing that she still feels that inkling of _like_ when she sees her, a surge of excitement through her nerves. The past few days have been a back and forth between her and Raven about whether Clarke should actually go through with the date (and after a very stern warning from her best friend, it was clear that Clarke would have to at least give it a go).

“Hey Niylah,” Clarke greets, pulling out the chair opposite her date. She looks up, a smile quickly replacing any surprise on her face.

“Clarke,” she smiles, folding down the corner of the page she's on before placing it in her bag. “I’m glad you made it.”

“You didn’t think I would?”

“I thought you might’ve had second thoughts,” Niylah shrugs, but doesn’t seem to hold any ill thoughts of Clarke with the statement. “I’ll go order us some drinks. What would you like?”

“A flat white would be great,” Clarke says, fishing out her wallet from her bag.

“Nonsense,” Niylah says, shaking her head. “I’ll grab these. You can get the next ones.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Clarke laughs, and watches Niylah as she walks into the coffee shop, a nice swing of her hips as she goes.

She has about two minutes to freak out by herself as Niylah orders, but once she comes back it’s surprisingly easy for the two of them to fall into conversation and find out about each other. Niylah’s twenty seven, a dog person, and planning to start her PhD in child developmental psychology this coming academic year. She seems cool in that effortless sort of way; the sort that almost creeps onto you by extension, and she’s nice, sweet, the kind of person Clarke can see herself going on a second date with.

It’s still odd, because even before Gemma Clarke didn’t really _date._ Her relationship history consists of two months with Finn in her freshman year of college, five with Lexa as a junior, a few one night stands or two weeks flings here and there, and well - Bellamy. So the concept of actually _dating_ is odd to her; every other relationship began in a bar or a club with copious amounts of alcohol, and none of them started with the predetermined idea that it would be a date. 

And on top of that, she didn’t have to worry about the whole _I’m a mum_ topic that will eventually come up. Now, it’s something that’s weighing on her mind, Clarke wondering when the right time to have _that_ conversation is.

But apparently Clarke’s preferred timeline (which at least has one note: _not today_ ) isn’t all that important, because after an hour or so of easy and comfortable conversation someone calls out her name.

“Lincoln?” Clarke says as she turns to see the man, an easy smile on his face as he walks out of the cafe, a bottle of juice in hand. “Hey, how are you?”

“Good. I’m just about to meet O for cake tasting,” he replies, seeming to only now notice Clarke’s company. “Sorry for interrupting. Hi, I’m Lincoln.”

“Niylah,” her date replies, taking the hand he offers and shaking it. “How do you two know each other?” Niylah asks, glancing between Clarke and Lincoln. 

They share a look, and Clarke can see the apology in his eyes now that he realises what he’s brought up.

“It’s complicated,” she admits with a sigh, shooting Niylah a rueful smile when the woman arches an eyebrow. 

“Ominous,” she replies, but it’s almost teasing. Clarke’s really enjoying how laid-back she is. 

Lincoln smothers a laugh before resting a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “I have to go, I'm sorry,” he says, and she knows he means for more than just leaving. “I’ll see you Thursday for dinner. O will want to give you all the updates on wedding planning.”

“Sounds good. See you then, Lincoln,” she says, her smile kind and hopefully forgiving. 

He nods, saying a quick goodbye to Niylah before heading off down the street to go eat an array of cakes while Clarke has to navigate this situation. Niylah looks at her sort of expectantly, but not unkindly. Honestly she looks more amused than anything else, which helps to calm Clarke’s nerves. 

“So I actually have a daughter,” Clarke decides to go with. Blunt honestly might not be a bad thing right now.

“Oh,” Niylah says, raising both eyebrows, surprised but definitely not put off. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Clarke smiles, finding her phone to pull up a picture. “Gemma. She’ll be three in December.”

“She’s gorgeous, Clarke,” Niylah smiles, looking at the photo. “She has your hair.”

“I know,” Clarke laughs. “I’m hoping she’ll keep the golden locks.”

Niylah passes her phone back and worries her lip momentarily. “So Lincoln is…”

“Gemma’s father’s sister’s fiance,” Clarke finishes. “Or my ex-coworker.”

“Wow, that’s a mouthful.” 

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“So you’re obviously not with the father anymore,” she says, eyes curious. “You - you don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to.” 

“No, it’s fine - if we’re talking about it I may as well tell you.” Because it’d feel a little bit like lying if she didn’t get this off her chest now. “I was never actually in a relationship with the father - Bellamy,” she amends. “It wasn’t a planned pregnancy, obviously, but - she’s my world, and even though I was young I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Niylah smiles and it looks genuine, and the relief Clarke feels is almost overwhelming, because it’s not really the usual first date conversation, and her date’s taking it exceptionally well. She knows having a daughter would be a deal breaker for a lot of people - not because they dislike kids necessarily, but it brings in another factor that some people just don’t want to consider. She would never hold it against Nylah or anyone else for having that opinion, but it’s nice not to feel like her daughter is some sort of point against her in the dating world.

And it maybe could’ve worked, but Niylah’s next question is about her relationship with Bellamy and Clarke’s not really sure what to say. She tells her the truth, that he’s only been back in her and Gemma’s lives for the past three or so months, and Clarke can see how Niylah’s expression shifts; drops a little, but in that kind and almost pitying way, and she has a feeling there won’t be a second date.

“I just think your hands are a little full, Clarke,” she tells her gently as they finish off their second drinks. “I don’t want to be just one more person you need to factor into all the relationships you’re trying to navigate. I don’t think it’d be fair on either of us. But I like you, and I’ll definitely keep coming back to the shop when I need supplies. You’ve just got a lot going on.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Clarke says, can’t help the laugh that bubbles in her chest. “I’m still going to call my first date as a mum a success.”

“You definitely should,” Niylah smiles, bright and wide. “And if, in a few months, things have settled down a little and you still want to get a drink, you have my number.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You should.” Niylah steps forward and embraces Clarke in a hug, nice and fond and like they’ve known each other a lot longer than they actually have. “It was really nice doing this, Clarke. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, you too, Niylah.”

Niylah grins, and after a final goodbye they go their separate ways. Clarke returns to her car, taking a moment when she’s in the driver's seat to let the day’s events settle over her. It might not’ve been an ideal date, because ideally a first date would lead to a second, but she can’t help the smile that still pulls on her lips regardless.

Because it feels like something, a step she didn’t know she wanted to take, but now that she has, she’s glad. It might be a while until she can properly date, because Niylah wasn’t wrong in saying that Clarke’s got a lot on her plate. But when she’s ready, it’s a relief to know that she can do it.

She decides to head to the beach, parking just near the pier and spotting her family in their usual place. It’s almost four, and she can see Gemma playing in the sand with Marcus as Abby offers them slices of watermelon. It brings a large smile to her face, watching them all together. Her family may not be completely conventional, but they’re hers and she loves them. 

“Darling, what’re you doing here?” Abby asks when Clarke sits down next to her on a towel.

“I was only twenty minutes away so I thought I might as well meet you here and spend some time barefoot in the sand.” She takes off her sandals and accepts the fruit her mum hands over. 

“How’d the date go?”

“Good,” Clarke says, smiling as her daughter bursts into giggles as Marcus dramatically falls because of a dip in the sand. She leans her head against Abby’s shoulder, the older woman wrapping an arm around her. “There won’t be a second, but it went well.”

“I’m glad you still had a good time. There’ll be others, you know.”

“Not for a while, but yeah. I think there will be.” 

Abby presses a kiss into her hair and they spend another minute watching Gemma and Marcus play together before Gemma finally notices her mum. She runs up, wet and covered in sand and without a care in the world, launching into Clarke and hugging her tight before running back to the sandcastle and her grandpa.

Clarke finds her phone in her bag, sending a text to the group message with her friends: _Won’t be a second date but I’m still calling the first a success. Explain at next movie night,_ and replying to Lincoln’s _I’m so sorry_ with an _It’s totally fine. Don’t fret._

And it was fine, really. Explaining her situation to someone with no other information was definitely odd, and she can easily see how messy it would appear from the outside, but it’s quickly becoming her normal. 

And as she watches Gemma playing in the sand; the same big, brown eyes as Bellamy’s, something in her bursts of laughter that remind Clarke of him, too, she thinks that ending things with Niylah early may’ve been for the best. Because just like the mother she didn’t talk to for years and now relies on more than almost anyone else in the world; the step-father she never really wanted who’s now a grandpa to her daughter, Bellamy’s part of her not-very-conventional family. And just like everyone else, he’s still hers, and there’s a part of her that does love him.

It may not be romantic love, but it’s strong and it’s present and it’s getting harder and harder to deny. She loves him but she’s not _in_ love with him. She loves him but it’s different from how she likes him. She loves him but it’s not in the same way that her feelings for him are growing.

But they are growing, and as she plays with their daughter at the edge of the water she realises that there’s a reason she didn’t mention the date to him when she dropped Gemma off yesterday afternoon, and there’s a reason she accepted the date with Niylah in the first place.

The situation may be becoming her normal but her feelings are still a fucking minefield to navigate, and through all her rational thoughts about her relationship with Bellamy and his relationship with their daughter, she still knows one thing deep down; that in all honestly, she’s not ready to move on from him just yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: imo Clarke isn't in love w Bellamy, but you can take her words however you like, I guess. Personally I think you can love someone and like them in different ways, so hopefully that made sense.  
> ANYWAY, hope you enjoyed the chapter!! I will try to get another one out this week.  
> *Inserts Octavia Blake "we're back, bitches!" gif here*


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooooooo, look who kept their promise and updated within the week? It me!  
> This chapter: Clarke and Bellamy learn to talk shit out without yelling, Octavia reveals some stuff about her brother, and setting up a bedroom is a good way to work out your feelings :)   
> Hope you enjoy!

“Gem, baby, you gotta keep your shoes on, okay? The ground isn't always safe to walk on.”

Gemma lets out a displeased whine when Clarke tries to pick her up, wriggling in her mum’s arms until she’s put down again, of course to try to take off her sandals. 

Clarke sighs, veering the stroller Gemma doesn’t want to sit in to the side and crouching in front of her daughter. She’s been in a difficult mood ever since Clarke picked her up from daycare two hours ago, and it’s been a bigger hit to Clarke than her tantrums usually are. She’s not sure why, but it might have something to do with the older man who shook his head disapprovingly when Clarke had to pick her up in the middle of the grocery store aisle because she didn’t want to move from her place; some sort of act of defiance. 

“Come on, Gem,” she says, trying not to plead as she moves her hands to cover her daughter’s tiny ones from where they pull on the velcro straps. “Do you want to go to the park?”

“Yes,” Gemma says with a pout.

“Then you gotta keep these on. Mummy doesn’t want anything happening to your little feet.” Gemma thankfully stops her efforts and glances up to Clarke, looking a little less disgruntled than before but still definitely in a mood. “Now do you want to walk or do you want me to carry you?”

“I wanna walk.” 

“Okay, then. Come on.” 

Clarke stands, a hand going to hold her daughter’s while the other continues pushing the stroller, and they continue their walk to the park . 

It’s almost four thirty in the afternoon, the sky still bright with the late July sun and the air warm but not intrusive. It’s the kind of day both she and Gemma normally love, but Clarke’s resigning herself to a semi-moody daughter for the rest of the evening. She considered just spending the rest of the day at home, but it’s a Tuesday and they’re supposed to be meeting Bellamy at the park once he finishes work before heading to her place for some dinner. She’s also hoping that Gemma’s mood will pick up when she plays in the fresh air (and that it will tire her out for the evening). 

It takes an extra ten minutes than usual to get to the park with Gemma’s short strides, but Clarke doesn’t mind all that much when her eyes light up happily at the sight of the playground.

“Go on, button,” she encourages, and watches Gemma run through the tanbark, immediately heading towards the slide. 

Clarke sets up at one of the benches, keeping an eye on her daughter as she climbs up onto a platform and pushes herself down the slide. Clarke joins her after a few moments, relieved to see how Gemma gets less cranky with each passing minute, even cracking some smiles and giggling when Clarke catches her in a little game of tiggy. Soon some more families with young children arrive at the previously empty playground, and Clarke decides to settle back on the bench so Gemma can play with the other kids. 

It’s only fifteen minutes (and one bandaid for a scraped knee) later that a bag drops down next to Clarke on the bench she’s residing on, and when she looks up she finds Bellamy, eyes already darting around the playground to find Gemma. He’s still in his office clothes, although he’s lacking a jacket and tie, and the top two buttons of his white shirt are undone. He looks good, but Clarke always thinks he looks good so it probably doesn’t mean much coming from her.

“Hey,” she says after a few moments of silence pass, something twisting in her stomach at the fact that he didn’t greet her first. It may be silly, but with the past few hours of Clarke barely being able to remedy Gemma’s sulkiness she’s feeling a bit sensitive.

“Oh, hey,” Bellamy replies, glancing towards her to offer a tight smile; one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m gonna go see the kiddo, alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Clarke says, nodding, barely finishing the stuttered sentence before Bellamy’s heading off to find Gemma. 

She watches him walk away to find Gemma, and tries to ignore how the short interaction already has her heart sinking; how Gemma lighting up more than she has the whole afternoon with Clarkewhen she sees Bellamy makes her feel uneasy. 

It’s - she should be glad. She should be ecstatic that they’re building such a good relationship with each other; that Bellamy makes Gemma happy when she’s obviously not having a great day otherwise. 

And any other day she’s sure it would be a relief, but right now she just feels - dejected, really. 

It happens when she gets in her head too much; the worry that she’s not enough for Gemma, all the insecurities that come with being a single mum. She’ll have a difficult day with her daughter and if she lets it, it can really knock her confidence. 

So she does what she always does on those days; taking a few deep breaths and reminding herself that some days are harder than others, that she’s been doing this for almost three years now and can survive anything life throws at her. That Gemma loves her and that she’s a good mother. 

It works almost as well as it usually does, although there’s the additional worry of Bellamy’s odd mood weighing on her mind as well. It might not be anything, but - it feels like something _,_ and it’s hard not to feel a little bit rejected when both her daughter and Bellamy seem like they don’t want to be around her. 

She’s thankfully broken from her quickly spiralling train of thought when someone clears their throat from beside her. It’s a man, maybe a bit older than she is, with a baby strapped to his chest and what looks like one too many bags in his hands.

“Sorry, am I able to sit here?” He asks, gesturing to the space Bellamy’s bag is taking up, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, of course,” Clarke replies, moving the workbag from beside her. “You alright?” She asks, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice when he heaves a huge sigh once safely sitting down.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, sheepish. “Long day. I’m guessing you know how it is.”

“I definitely do,” she says with a smile. “I’m Clarke.”

“Matt.” He unstraps the baby from his chest to sit in his lap instead. “This is Alexander.” 

She smiles at the gurgling baby, reaching out so he can grasp one of her fingers. “How old?”

“Seven months.”

“So you came to the park just to sit down with your baby and four bags?” She asks, chuckling when Alexander puts her finger in his mouth.

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve got another one. Emily,” he points to a girl in purple overalls and messy pigtails in her hair. She looks a few years older than Gemma, and is currently hiking up to one of the taller slides on the playground. “She’s six and absolutely _had_ to go to the park today,” he rolls his eyes, but his tone is fond. “What about you?”

“I’ve got a daughter, Gemma, two and a half,” she says, pointing out the little girl who’s now strapped into a swing, Bellamy pushing her gently as she laughs. He catches her eye for a moment, and Clarke doesn’t miss the way his narrow momentarily when he notices her new company.

“ _Ah_ , so how are the terrible twos going? Should I worry about it with this one? I’ve never experienced them before.”

“Emily didn’t experience the terrible twos?” She asks, incredulous and more than a little jealous.

“My husband and I adopted her when she was almost four, so she probably did but I certainly didn’t,” he laughs. “This is my first experience with an actual baby. Definitely a learning curve.”

“You’ll be fine,” Clarke assures with a smile. “So, how long have you been married?”

They fall into a comfortable conversation, and it’s nice; distracting Clarke from her previous worries. Matt is sweet, if a little flustered watching over one child while entertaining another, and when Emily has a fall in the tanbark and takes more than five seconds to jump back up again Alexander is quickly in Clarke’s arms while he goes to check on his daughter. 

She’s never been one to strike up a conversation with other parents at the park, or anywhere actually, but there’s something easy about it when they both share the experiences of having kids. He’s good company, eager to ask Clarke about her experiences with her daughter, and it’s weirdly good timing in the way it builds up some of the confidence that’s been knocked from her today. 

When six o’clock nears, Clarke knows it’s time to start heading home, and Matt seems to be in the same boat when another man, quickly introduced as his husband James, joins the pair to round up the kids. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Clarke says, giving Alexander one last snuggle before handing him back to his dad. It’s been a long time since she’s held a baby, and she misses how pudgy they are and all the ridiculous faces they make. 

“Yeah, definitely. We’ll see you around, Clarke.” 

Clarke nods in agreement, saying a quick goodbye to the family, and once they’re heading off she starts gathering her own things, placing both her and Bellamy’s bag in the compartment at the bottom of the stroller. Before she can call out to Bellamy and Gemma, they’re already at her side, her daughter thankfully looking to be in better spirits. 

She lifts her arms up to Clarke, and Clarke leans down to pick Gemma up, little arms quickly circling around her neck. She hugs Gemma tightly, her head tucking into her daughter’s neck before she presses a kiss to her shoulder and settles Gemma on her hip.

“I wanna walk,” Gemma tells her, and Clarke lets her down again, instead grabbing the stroller and letting out a deep, calming breath.

“Everything okay?” Bellamy asks as he falls into step with her, Gemma a few steps ahead of them as they make the familiar journey back to her apartment. 

“Yeah,” Clarke sighs. “Gem’s just been in a bit of a mood today.”

“Really? She seemed alright at the park.”

Clarke hums in agreement, not trusting her voice to stay even when the words make her feel particularly useless. She knows it wasn’t meant as any sort of dig at her, but apparently she's taking everything personally today.

If he thinks it’s a weird response he doesn’t say anything, and after a few minutes she asks him how work’s been in an attempt to make conversation when it doesn’t seem likely that he’ll initiate one. They talk about the usual things on the way home, and even though there’s nothing outwardly _wrong_ with the interaction, something about it certainly doesn’t feel right. 

She's thankful when they arrive back to her place, Gemma now in Bellamy’s arms because she was sick of walking, and tells the two of them to do their own thing while she works on dinner.Bellamy sets up with Gemma in the lounge room while she puts the pasta bake she prepared earlier in the oven and throws together a salad. 

And everything is - fine. Clarke joins them in the lounge room, picking up a book and letting the other two play while she reads. When they sit down for dinner Bellamy is perfectly polite; doesn’t say anything that strikes her as straight up rude or angry or annoyed, but. 

It’s still all wrong. Like they’re on slightly different wavelengths and can’t seem to sync up with each other; like the axis of their relationship has shifted just a little bit and she can’t figure out what the cause is. She can’t pinpoint _why_ everything feels so strained, but it does and it has her on edge; a tightness gripping at her throat and tensing her shoulders. Conversation doesn’t flow as easily as she’s used to, Bellamy doesn’t smile that crooked smile he usually does when she attempts to crack a joke, and his focus is almost completely directed towards Gemma, when she’s used to chatting with him throughout the evening, too.

And she’s trying to remember their last interaction - only three days ago when she had dinner at his house after Gemma spent the afternoon alone there - to see if anything gives a clue to what his fucking problem is. But there’s nothing; everything was normal and they laughed and talked and joked and were comfortable with each other in the way they’ve learnt to be. There’s no reason she can think of that explains this sudden change, because she hasn’t even _seen_ him.

It’s a little later, when Gemma’s down for the night and Bellamy’s refused to leave the dishes for Clarke to finish by herself, that she realises the problem. His too casual inquiry of the man she was chatting with at the park earlier, and it hits her -

Her date. 

Specifically, Lincoln running into her while she was on her date.

Lincoln who was on his way to meet Octavia when he bumped into Clarke, and most likely told his fiancé exactly what he saw. Octavia who, despite her newfound closeness with Clarke, most likely told Bellamy of this development.

The thing is, Clarke hadn’t really thought about the information making its way back to Bellamy. It was probably naive of her, but when Lincoln ran into her and Niylah, Clarke’s focus was primarily on explaining everything to her _date,_ not what the man’s fiancé’s brother would think of said date. And after, when she realised there wouldn’t be a second, spending the rest of the afternoon with her daughter, her mum and Marcus at the beach, she _was_ thinking of Bellamy, but not like this. She had made the decision not to tell him about her date before Sunday for reasons she’s still coming to terms with, but she didn’t even think to bring it up to him _after,_ because it had become a non-issue. There wasn’t going to be a second date, and she didn’t really expect the information to get back to him.

And if it did, she certainly didn’t expect him to react in whatever way this is. He’s not even being an asshole, though, just fucking _weird_ and - not Bellamy. Kind of like he doesn’t know how to act around her.

So she stares at him, appraising, hip resting against the bench as she dries the dishes he’s just washed. He’s steadfastly _not_ looking at her; she can see the effort he’s putting into the ruse, and the almost tense set to his body makes Clarke even more sure of what she suspects.

“He was a married man trying to find somewhere to sit,” she tells him flatly. “We talked about our children for the half hour we were together.”

She’s not sure whether to be annoyed or not, because, well, she’s having a bad day, and already was before Bellamy got involved. She can appreciate that she's maybefeeling a little overly-sensitive at the moment, and that her judgement might not be great. Because he hasn’t been rude, no. Just _off,_ and she can’t exactly be mad at him for that, can she? Or maybe she can, but - fighting with Bellamy hasn’t made her feel any better previously, and she doubts it would today. Besides, what’s her actual argument? _You ignored me for our daughter the entire evening?_ It’s probably not a strong one, and it’s definitely a selfish one.

So when he nods, body relaxing, she just sighs, flicking on the kettle before continuing to dry the dishes he passes over. They finish quickly, and he waits as she makes each of them a cup of tea, handing it over; white no sugar, just how he likes.

“So I went on a date on Sunday,” she tells Bellamy, thankful that he doesn’t attempt to act surprised. He simply nods, looking more than a little awkward. “Octavia told you?”

“Yeah,” he says, a hand running through his hair. 

“And you feel weird about it?”

“No, I just didn’t - I didn’t know how to act; knowing when it wasn’t you who told me.”

“So that’s why you’re being all-” she waves at him, lets him fill in the blanks. 

“I’ve been a dick, haven’t I?” He groans, looking sincerely abashed. 

Clarke can’t help the smile pulling on her lips; the bad energy she’s been feeling these past few hours slightly dissipating. “Not a _dick,_ just. Distant. Not you.”

“Fuck,” he swears, eyes closing for a few moments before he speaks again. “Look, I guess after we talked last month I made a decision not to start seeing anyone, and - fuck this sounds dumb. I just - wasn’t expecting to find out you were dating, especially from my sister.” He sighs deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench while he gathers his thoughts. “It took me by surprise and I didn’t really know whether to bring it up or not; if it was my place to say something. So I guess I just cut out that possibility. Which isn’t an excuse for being a dick, but-” he gestures to himself self-deprecatingly. 

“We’ve already established you’re a bit of a dick,” Clarke says, teasing, and offers him a small smile. “It’s okay, I just wasn’t sure if I’d done something to upset you, and I was already having a shitty day with Gem, so it was all just - a bit much.”

“Yeah. I am sorry,” he says, his large hand covering her smaller one where it lays on the bench. She glances up and he smiles at her kindly, a bit sheepish even. “You know, a day will come where I won’t be a total idiot all the time, but it might take a while.” She laughs and he grins, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. His next words are more sincere. “I’m sorry I let my idiocy affect you.” 

“It’s okay. I’m just glad we’re okay.”

Bellamy nods. “Yeah, me too.”

The change in Bellamy’s demeanour is instant, and he ends up staying for another hour, allowing them the time to catch up like they normally do. It’s something she’s found important for them to do; keeping track of how everything is going with Gemma and where things are heading in the coming weeks. 

When Bellamy brings up the still-mostly-empty-purple-room in his house (now, he tells her, with a constellation of glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling), Clarke suggests that they go shopping on the coming weekend. She’s been meaning to buy Gemma an actual bed, because while she’s not one to climb out of her crib very often, the little (getting bigger) girl will be outgrowing it soon. They agree to meet Saturday morning, and, after deciding not to take separate cars (parking is always a bitch), Bellamy starts to gather his things to leave. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Clarke says just before she opens the front door. She runs back to the kitchen, finding the envelope marked with his name and passing it to him. “It’s my mum’s fiftieth in a few weeks, so if you want to come you’re more than welcome to.”

“Oh. Thanks, Clarke,” he says, taking the invitation from her and placing it carefully in his workbag. He hesitates for a moment before wrapping his arms around her in a firm hug. “I’m sorry for making you worry,” he tells her, voice coming out hoarse. When he pulls back it’s not very far, and he smiles down at her almost sadly, his hand resting on her shoulder. “You’ll still come to O’s on Thursday, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” she replies, nodding with a small smile. She leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, hoping to reassure him that they’re okay. “I’ll be there, Bell.”

His smile comes a little more naturally after that. “See you then, princess.”

**

When Thursday comes she’s feeling a lot better than she had on Tuesday. Just as she told herself, some days are harder than others, but it’s nice when the bad days don’t roll over to the next (she suspects clearing up things with Bellamy did her a world of good, and it was an added bonus when Gemma’s bad mood cleared with a night’s sleep).

Bellamy’s already there, helping Lincoln in the kitchen while Octavia seems to be giving orders from her place at the kitchen table, a large glass of red in hand. Clarke was told to walk right in because their doorbell is broken, and when O sees them she squeals, quick to gather her niece up in a big hug.

“Let her breathe,” Bellamy chastises his sister, though Clarke suspects it’s just so he can get his turn sooner. Gemma is quick to settle on his hip, both returning to the kitchen so Gemma can help stir the (simmering on low, Bellamy assures her) curry on the stove. 

“Something to drink?” Octavia asks, holding up a bottle of wine with a devilish grin. Clarke’s seen quite a lot of her since it all began, and she’s pretty sure she’d consider them friends, even when the _reason_ they’re friends is less than conventional. But she likes Octavia, enjoys her company and her bubbly personality, the hint of steel behind it all.

Clarke snorts, “Sure, why not,” joining O on the couch while the others finish off dinner. 

She and Lincoln have come a lot further with their wedding plans since the last time Clarke talked to O about it, and it’s exciting to hear about how the big day is coming together. Octavia’s obviously stressed, but she can't really blame her when the date of the wedding - near the end of November - is getting closer and closer. It's a small event, which probably helps. Octavia’s explained that neither she or Lincoln have much family (Bellamy seems to be the extent of it; and now that Clarke thinks of it maybe Gemma’s included in there, too), so it’s going to be a day to celebrate with friends. 

“Do you want to see some of the dresses I’m looking at?” She asks excitedly, and of course Clarke’s not going to say no to that. 

She follows Octavia into the bedroom she shares with her fiancé, and they quickly become lost to the world of wedding dresses. There are a _lot;_ so many styles at varying degrees of _holy fuck_ pricing, and Octavia has a list a mile long of the ones she wants to try on, and where she’ll be able to in L.A.

“Hey, you should come with me!”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah! We can have a girls’ day! I’ve heard they give you champagne and cake and stuff like that, and you can try on dresses as well. It’ll be so much fun! I don’t-” she worries her lip for a moment, seeming smaller all of a sudden. “I don’t actually have many girl friends - only people I’ve met through uni and placement, and well, now you and your friends.” Clarke knows that O took it upon herself to become friends with each individual member of her group, and Raven even revealed that they text most days now. “It’d mean a lot if you wanted to.”

“Of course, O,” Clarke smiles, pulling her in for a hug. “A girls’ sounds like _heaven_ , right about now.”

“Run down?” She asks, chuckling as she shifts back.

“Something like that,” Clarke says, wry. “Trying to coordinate everything in my life at the moment is just - a lot. And I’m happy, of course, but - a girls’ day would be amazing.”

Octavia laughs softly, and then takes Clarke’s hand. “You know we appreciate how generous you’re being, right? I know Bell’s not always good at saying it, but I know how grateful he is that you’re willing to let him spend as much time with Gemma as you are.”

“Thanks, O. He hasn’t said so it in so many words, but yeah - I know.”

Octavia nods, and then looks to be debating herself over something. “I’m sorry for mentioning the date to him when it wasn’t really my place. I honestly thought he already knew, or else I would’ve butt out of it all.”

“It’s okay. It all worked out fine.”

“Bell wasn’t an idiot about it? He was an idiot about it when I told him.”

“You sure like gossiping about your brother, you know that?” Clarke teases, prompting an eye roll from the other girl. “He was a bit of an idiot, but we talked and worked it out.”

“I’m glad,” O says, worrying her lip again. “Clarke, look, I really like you and I _really_ want this to work, but I’m always going to look out for my brother.” 

“I understand,” Clarke says, taken a bit by surprise at the sudden statement. 

“It’s - I’m gonna tell you something that I need you to understand, okay?” Clarke nods, a little hesitant but gesturing for her to continue anyway. “Okay,” Octavia says, taking a deep breath. “Clarke, when Bell came back to New York after spending two weeks here, he was - well, not a _wreck,_ but I could tell he was upset,” she begins slowly, careful in her choice of words. Clarke’s heart picks up immediately, not sure where the story is going exactly, but a mixture of nervousness and intrigue washing over her. “It took me a while to find out what happened, but eventually he told me that he met someone - that he met _you._ I’m sure you’ve come to realise that it's hard for him to open up to anyone that isn’t family, but he did with you. He _liked_ you, Clarke. A lot. And I don’t think he ever really got over it. I think you were kind of like the one that got away for him. Sorry, I know this is a lot, but…”

“No, keep going,” Clarke insists, in a state of shock at Octavia’s words; things she’s wondered for years but resigned herself to never finding out.

Octavia nods. “He cared about you before Gemma, Clarke, and I think that finding out about her has made his feelings different, sure, but - I don’t think they’ve gone away entirely. My point is, I think the reason he felt weird finding out about your date was because he hadn’t truly considered that it wouldn’t always be how it is now; you and Gemma and Bell together, acting a little bit like a family. And he knows that he has Gem - that he always will - but…I think he realised he might not always have you.”

“Octavia…”

“Look, I know I’ve said I wouldn’t meddle,” she quickly continues, almost defensively. “and I’m not going to any further, but. Clarke, when Bell lets you in, he loves you fucking selflessly. He won’t care how much he has to go through to make you happy, and I know that because he _raised me_ for half my life _._ And he’s going to be raising Gem now, and he’s going to let you both in. I just need you to know that that’s what you’re working with here.”

“Okay,” she says quietly, overcome with the sudden urge to cry, because it’s all a huge amount to process. Everything Octavia’s said is pretty much new information to her, and it’s a lot to handle; knowing how much of Bellamy’s heart she holds in her hands. And everything about their past, well - those are words she’ll be analysing over and over in the days to come, she has no doubt.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t date or anything,” Octavia clarifies, taking Clarke’s hands in her own. “It’s not really about that. I just want you to know that he feels more than he always lets on, and he’ll do a lot for your happiness, even when it’s at the price of his own.”

“Okay,” she says, taking a deep, calming breath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Octavia stands and brings Clarke in for a big, tight hug, and Clarke holds the girl back with the same fierceness; needs the comfort when the ground feels like it’s shifting beneath her.

“Oi, you two, dinner’s ready!” Bellamy calls out from somewhere in the house. 

“I guess we should go back out.”

“Yeah,” Octavia says, pulling away from the embrace. “I don’t want you to feel bad, Clarke, just take it on board.”

Clarke only nods, still overwhelmed with everything, wondering how she’s going to pull off an entire evening with the Blakes after what she’s just been told, but walks out into the dining area nonetheless.

“Hey, you alright?” Bellamy asks, soft, as soon as she reaches the table. A hand on her shoulder, eyes full of concern, and Clarke’s heart twists even more.

“Yeah, I’m good, Bell. Thanks.”

**

Bellamy picks Clarke and Gemma up just past nine on Saturday morning, an easy smile on his face when he sees them both, and Clarke can’t help but find it frustrating because she’s been freaking out since Thursday night and he’s just standing there, oblivious to it all.

It brings her back to a different time, three months ago now, when she first bumped into him. Cataloging all the differences in his face; how three years changed him. The smirk that tugged on his lips; one that fuelled Clarke’s anger, because he didn’t know what he left with her back then, and he was looking at her like an old conquest. Which is what she was to him, she had thought at least, but now? Now she’s remembering that look of awe in his eyes as he was taking her in; the way his face twisted into something like sorrow when she told him she tried to contact him but was unable to; how he flashed with hurt when she asked what he was doing in L.A. 

These moments she can’t deny she thought of back then, but were easily overshadowed by the greater issue of introducing him to his daughter. But now - now he knows about Gemma, and now they’ve got a routine of sorts down, and now the fact that Bellamy cared for her more than she realised is what’s whirling through her mind. 

Bellamy straps Gemma into the carseat in the back while Clarke scrambles into the front (it’s a tall car and she’s well, not tall).

She’s able to hold up her end of the conversation _okay_ at best, trying to push away any thoughts of what Octavia told her the other night, but failing when her mind inevitably wanders. Because it’s still there, and it’s hard to ignore how the words _he realised he might not always have you_ make her heart physically _hurt,_ how she wants to wrap him up in her arms and reassure him that she’s not going anywhere; that he’ll always have her. Honestly, her reaction to Octavia’s words feels like as much of an admission than the words themselves.

“Doing alright?” Bellamy asks as they arrive at IKEA, obviously noticing Clarke’s general absence.

“What? Yeah, sorry,” she says, shaking her head to rid herself of intrusive thoughts. 

Bellamy seems to accept the answer well enough, simply taking out the stroller from the boot of his car and setting it up while Clarke grabs Gemma. She really hopes Gem will be happy to sit in there, because chasing her around the store sounds fucking awful. Thankfully she goes in willingly, and the three of them make their way into the giant building. 

And it’s actually - really fun, she finds as they start making their way through the display rooms. Bellamy is pushing Gemma along, indulging Clarke when she stops to look at things for living rooms when they’re clearly here for a specific reason.

“You’re one of those people who loves stationary, aren’t you?” He teases when she shows him a cool organising system for remotes.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, even though his assumption is entirely correct.

He tuts, bumping their shoulders together. “No swearing in front of the children, princess,” he says, mock stern, and is rewarded with a poked out tongue from Clarke because clearly she’s very mature. 

She finds that Bellamy is a good shopping companion; happy to stop when she wants to and happy to miss sections when there’s nothing there to interest her. He leans in close to make comments on other customers, sometimes a little bit rude (making her slap him in the arm and shoot him a look while he laughs heartily), but it’s all in good humour. 

She’s even able to stay present in their conversation; the fact that they’re actively doing something very helpful in keeping her thoughts from wandering. She tells him about her mother’s coming birthday, and that she might buy Gemma a new dress for the day because she’s a bit of a sucker for tiny, adorable children’s clothes, and then going on to mention the trip she’s taking to Yosemite in September with Wells, Mel, Raven and Wick (because they’re the only ones who were able to get work off), as a tribute of sorts to her father. Bellamy in return talks about a new project he’s working on (having almost wrapped up work with Miller’s team), and another company he’s setting up a proposal for, and then talking about his involvement in his sister’s wedding, which mostly seems to be calming Octavia down when she freaks out and offering his opinion when the engaged couple are deciding on something. He’s going to be giving O away, and from the way his voice goes rough when telling Clarke, she knows that it means a lot to him, even when he makes a joke of it all.

Gemma is content sitting and observing, only making demanding noises a few times, usually because she dropped Occi. By the time they make it to the children section they’ve been wandering around for up of half an hour, and Clarke takes her daughter out of the stroller to settle on her hip. 

“Baby, Bell and I are going to look for a bed for you. One like mummy’s but a bit smaller cause you’re so tiny. Okay?”

Gemma giggles and nods, and Clarke tentatively puts her down, hoping she doesn’t immediately bolt. She doesn’t, and Clarke can see the relief in Bellamy’s eyes at that, too; there are a lot of people around. 

Along with a bed, they’re also looking for a dresser, a bookshelf, something for storage, and some stuff for a play space. Clarke’s expecting to be here for a quite a while, so gears herself up for the morning ahead, taking Gemma’s hand in her own, and beings looking at their options, considering price and practicality with Bellamy, and drawing little sketches on paper to work out if particular dimensions will fit. 

Gemma does pretty well, too, only wandering far enough away that Clarke has to round her up three times, and gets increasingly excited as they make their way to the toys section. 

By the time she and Bellamy have decided on everything they’re going to buy over an hour has passed, and Clarke has learnt that despite his earlier teasing about her excitement of homeware shopping, he loves colour coordinated furniture, which is pretty hilarious (even though Clarke definitely agrees). 

He lets Gemma pick out two new toys that will (maybe) stay at his place, and then they’re heading to the section to pick up the boxes of unconstructed furniture they’re buying. He spends a fair amount of money in the end, and Clarke tries not to feel guilty, reasoning that this is just an additional thing he has to go through (and that the end result will be worth it).

They’re able to fit everything in the car, although it takes about twenty minutes to figure out how to do so without risking anything falling onto Gemma, and Clarke’s pretty proud that they make it back to his house only a little after twelve. 

After a quick run around in the background (Bellamy definitely has her back at trying to tire their little girl out) and some lunch, they’re putting Gemma down for a nap in Bellamy’s room and then moving the various boxes into what will soon be Gemma’s room as they try not to laugh.

“Stop it,” Clarke whines, trying not to laugh when Bellamy makes yet another face over the packaged bookshelf. It’s not particularly heavy, but it’s easier carrying things in together. “Laughing only makes me weaker.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Bellamy insists, though there’s laughter in his voice and he immediately makes another ridiculous face at her. 

Despite her protests, it still brings a smile to Clarke’s face, wide and unable to be tamped down, and when they’ve brought everything in she realises all at once that the fear that has continued to worry her - that Bellamy isn’t all in this; that he might decide to leave them one day - is gone. The realisation makes her heart stutter in its rhythm, and her chest feels heavier too, but it’s not in a bad way. It’s a good feeling; something strong and bold and unwavering, that belief in him. 

It brings her back to Octavia’s words (which she’s done a pretty good job at ignoring throughout the morning), and as they sit together in their daughter’s new room, unpacking the unconstructed bed and attempting to work out the instructions, Bellamy laughing brightly and grinning fondly, Clarke wonders whether he’s having a similar problem as she is with her feelings. 

Because Octavia told her that he liked her, that when he returned home he was _upset,_ and Clarke remembers that feeling exactly, before any thought of pregnancy even crossed her mind. And knowing that feels huge, because she’s admitted to herself that she could’ve loved him given enough time, but it’s startling to realise that he might have felt something similar; that they understood each other on such a deep level that the short amount of time they spent together was enough to feel that way. 

And even though she said his feelings have changed because of Gemma, she also said she thinks they’re still there; just like Clarke’s are. It would certainly explain the kiss all those weeks ago, the words of explanation that Clarke still sometimes thinks about: _you’re just you, you know?_ She didn’t know at the time, but…she might be starting to. She might be in the same boat, because that’s often how she feels like describing Bellamy. He’s _him,_ he’s _Bellamy,_ and that feels like explanation enough a lot of the time. 

So maybe they’re in more of a similar state than she realised, navigating everything, both together and separately; Gemma, their obligations to each other, their feelings _for_ each other. And last week she recognised that she isn’t ready to move on from him, but now she’s recognising that she might not even _want_ to.

She watches him for a moment, brows furrowed as he levels one piece of the bed frame to another, still with such a peacefulness about him which she realises is probably relief - that they’re finally doing this; that they’re moving forward - and it’s enough to make her speak up.

“Bell?”

“Hm?” He asks, absent.

“You’re really in this, huh?”

He looks up at that, eyes becoming softer as he takes her in. He smiles, reaching out for her. She shuffles until she’s by his side and he brings an arm around her shoulders, part of the easy affection they’ve come to offer each other, and presses a kiss to her temple.

“I’m really in this, princess. I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks up to him, and her heart swells in a way it hasn’t for a long time, because she’s missed this more than she’s allowed herself to realise; having someone. He’s not hers, not by a long shot, but he’s _Bellamy,_ and yeah - it’s enough of an explanation for the feeling right now.

“Good. Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, guys!!!  
> Comments/kudos are always so appreciated and make it so much easier to stay motivated!  
> I'm really looking forward to next chapter, cause lots of things are gonna happen and I'm also leaving you with a little bit of a cliffhanger WHICH I HAVE MISSED SO MUCH!!!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i decided to split my original chapter into two, partly because it was gonna be quite long in the end and partly because I liked how I finished this one!!  
> I am hoping to get part two out very quickly tho, cause I still wanna leave u w my original cliffhanger (although there's a little one here too cause I suck). Still, comments etc would be lovely!!  
> Oh yeah, Niylah returns!

It’s a little bit ridiculous how excited Gemma is to have her own room in Bellamy’s house. When they show her the final product - her face lighting up at the purple walls, at the night sky Bellamy’s created on the ceiling and the giraffe growth chart they can measure her height on - Clarke pretends she doesn’t see how his eyes go glassy. But it’s kind of obvious, and it makes her heart ache; how gone he is for her daughter, for _their_ daughter. 

“So, we did well,” he says later in the evening, when dinner’s been eaten and Gemma’s dozing off in Clarke’s arms as they sit together on the couch.

“Yeah,” Clarke replies softly, fingers tracing her daughter’s features lightly. “She’ll be excited to sleep over. As long as she has Occi, of course.”

“Of course,” Bellamy says, lips tugging into that smile she’s become familiar with. Like their daughter is an inside joke that they share. It’s a nice smile. “So, do you think that’ll be…soon?”

As far as hints go, it’s not very subtle, and when Clarke shoots him a knowing grin he smiles back sort of helplessly. 

“Yeah, I do,” she says, surprised at how easily it comes; how sure she is of the words. “I think I’d be ready to do it soon, and I think she would be too.” 

“Cool,” he says, relief in his voice. “Awesome.” 

“Thank you for going at my pace,” she says after a few moments of silence. It’s something she’s been meaning to say to him recently, but they're usually too busy with Gemma. “I don’t really have a reference for this; if I’m moving too slowly or too fast, but just - thank you. For not pushing.”

Bellamy smiles a her, soft and warm and kind. “Four months ago I had no idea about her, Clarke. I’m honestly just amazed that this is happening at all, you know? Like sometimes I wake up and I remember and I just think _fuck_ , I have a daughter. I’m just happy to have her - and you. I don’t want to push anything.”

Clarke nods, ducking her face to hide how she’s flushing. She's happy to have him, too, but it feels dangerous to say, so instead she starts asking about an upcoming project he's working on. It’s only a little later when her eyes begin to droop (even though it’s only just past nine), and Bellamy insists that he drive her and Gemma home. He unloads the furniture for her place, a promise to come around the next morning to help her set the bed up, and then he’s kissing Gemma goodnight and heading back to his place.

Clarke falls into bed as soon as Gemma's down, encasing herself in her big, soft blanket as she thinks back on the day; on the past week. Of everything that she’s found out about Bellamy and everything she’s come to accept about herself. It all feels so complicated, but ignoring what she now knows won’t make anything go away, so she figures it’s better to acknowledge it and try to work out how she’s going to move forward. Because she may have admitted that she doesn’t want to move on from Bellamy, but what does that actually mean?

Gemma is still her primary concern, and she always will be. Even though the past four months have built a solid relationship between her and Bellamy - it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he’s Gemma’s second favourite person now - it doesn’t mean it doesn’t still require work, and it doesn’t mean that Clarke doesn’t have to worry about it. 

She can’t do anything that could fuck up Gemma’s relationship with her father, and that starting something with Bellamy is dangerous. Maybe too much of a risk despite  how much she’s realising she likes him. So it feels like she’s in a middle ground of sorts; unable to commit yet unable (and not wanting) to move on. But she knows she can’t stay there for long; it’s unfair for everyone involved, and it’ll just make things even more confusing for herself.

She thinks about it a lot the next day, when Bellamy comes to her place in the morning to help set up Gemma’s second new bed. They spend the morning together, and when Gemma goes down for her nap midday Bellamy decides to hang around, too. And it’s this stuff that gets to her, because it’s not just a shared bond over their daughter. If it was, it would be a lot easier for Clarke to compartmentalise her feelings. She would know where she stood with Bellamy - that she liked him because of Gemma; that her feelings were revolved around the fact that they made something so precious together. 

But it’s not. It’s a large part of it, sure, because their daughter is the most important thing to Clarke (and she is certain Bellamy feels the same way), and there’s something incredible about that. But there _is_ more. These moments that are between just the two of them, where they can joke about work and uni and shit-talk TV and movies and books and laugh about their family and friends like they aren’t a pair that met three years ago and got a daughter out of it. Like instead they’re just friends who are getting closer, more comfortable with one another. Friends that could possibly lead to more. 

But she's not sure they can, so this middle ground is all she has for the moment.

He stays for the entire day in the end, and when Clarke mentions that the gang is coming around because she hasn’t made it to a movie night in a few weeks, he hesitantly asks if he can join, which is kind of adorable, even if it’s completely unnecessary. 

He cooks them up a quick stir fry and volunteers to help Gemma eat when Wells, Mel, Octavia and Lincoln arrive just past six, and Clarke realises her friends are a hungry lot and she hasn’t been grocery shopping in a week.

“So you hung out with Bellamy all day yesterday and all day today?” Wells asks when they’re safely in the kitchen by themselves, his tone a careful mixture of teasing yet accusatory. She knows it well, because Wells has been with her through every middle school and high school crush, so of course he’s picked this up in about ten seconds flat.

“Shut up,” Clarke mutters, handing him some beers from the fridge. She’s hoping everyone’s had a proper dinner because she’s only got some dip and pita bread for everyone to snack on. When she turns around Wells is watching her with raised eyebrows and a hint of a smirk. “I said _shut up._ ”

“I’m not saying anything,” he says, placating. “But if I was, I would ask if this is…you know, a thing.”

“A thing? What are we, twelve?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“And you didn’t ask a question.”

Wells huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and arching a brow somewhat pointedly.

“Fine,” Clarke whines, moving to his side and telling him lowly, “So I have a little crush, okay? I’m accepting it and I’m going to work it out somehow.”

Wells is silent for a few moments, before a laugh and then, “Well shit.”

“What?” She hisses.

“I didn’t think you were, well - serious, really. You really like him?”

And because she can never lie to Wells - the boy she grew up with, the boy that’s as close to a brother as she’ll ever have - she simply sighs, admitting aloud for the first time that, “Yes, I really like him. It’s confusing and stupid and probably going to blow up in my face, but. I like him. Do not tell Raven this.”

“Don’t tell Raven what?”Clarke whines and Wells chuckles. “Well why would you try to keep goss from me?” The woman in question strides up to them, placing a six pack on the kitchen counter. She looks vaguely annoyed but mostly curious, and Clarke guesses she’ll be looking smug in no time at all.

“Clarke and Bellamy spent all weekend together,” Wells informs Raven, mockingly grave. Clarke’s honestly just happy they’re keeping it quiet, because everyone else is just in the lounge room, and Clarke knows how easily sound travels in her apartment. 

“Oh _really_?” Raven says, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “And here I thought you were specifically not going to do that kind of stuff.”

“And I seem to recall you advising me of just that. Why do you look so happy about the development?”

Raven rolls her eyes, as though Clarke is really slow on the up-take. She’s got a feeling that her friends have been discussing her life a lot in the past weeks of her absence, and she doesn’t know how to feel about it, especially when Octavia’s been a new addition to the group. Octavia and Raven together really seem like a force to be reckoned with. 

“You were scared about mixed messages back then, Clarke. But it’s been months and you two are good now. He’s settled into Gemma’s life pretty much completely, so she’s fine, and you guys are good now that you can hash shit out without making it a big deal. You’ve come a long way, so why not actually be friends with him?”

Clarke worries her lip, because although Raven’s technically right, it still doesn’t feel like it. 

“What?” Raven asks, raising both eyebrows.

“What if I’m still worried about mixed messages?” Clarke mumbles. It actually feels good if she’s being honest; getting it off her chest. And an outsider’s perspective might actually be helpful. 

“And why would you be worried about that?” Raven asks slowly, and Clarke knows she knows, but is allowing her the chance to say it herself; only if she wants to. She’s grateful that despite how much they tease each other and push each other, they’re still good like this. 

“Because I may be actually developing feelings for him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s okay, isn’t it?” Raven says gently, which only confirms Clarke’s belief that this situation is a mess.

“Is it?” 

She’s saved from hearing a response when the front door to the apartment opens again, bringing in more friends and more noise. Monroe and Harper stride into the kitchen, greeting them all with a kiss on the cheek before beginning to relay the story of an asshole who catcalled them as they were making out on the street, and then a few minutes later Jasper is calling out for Clarke from the lounge room because “Octavia is stealing Gemma from me”. She sighs, making a move to go deal with (say hello to) everyone, though it’s not before Wells takes her hand and squeezes, gaining her attention.

“It is okay, Clarke,” he says, bringing her in for a hug. She’ll never not find Wells comforting, and she wraps her arms around him, letting her nerves dissipate for the moment. “You’re allowed to have feelings for people and you’re allowed to find them confusing. I know everything is really complicated, but don’t beat yourself up, okay? You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

Clarke nods, offering Wells a grateful smile, before a shout followed by a yelp prompts her to leave for real. Gemma’s in Jasper’s arms, so she assumes Octavia eventually got sick of his nagging; Murphy and Monroe are glaring at each other while Emori, Harper and Wick watch on in amusement; Maya is chatting away to Lincoln and Mel; and Monty and Miller are sharing a sweet moment with each other. She looks across the room and catches Bellamy’s eye, and when he sees her he smiles, bright and fond. A flutter grows in her stomach, which she supposes is to be expected but she still finds it surprising all the same. Once again, instead of ignoring it Clarke decides to accept it.

And maybe Wells is right; maybe it is okay. Maybe she can work through her feelings for him and one day go back to - well, not normal, because nothing about them has ever really been normal, but to a place where they can be friends. Co-parents and friends. 

But that feeling from yesterday is back. That feeling of having someone. A warmth spreading in her chest when she looks at him, and she knows he’s not _hers_ , but sometimes it feels like he is; in these small moments where they manage to find each other.

She walks further into the room and slumps down next to him on the couch, accepting the beer he offers gratefully. They begin guessing how long it will take Monroe to finally snap and punch Murphy in the face, and burst into laughter when she actually cuffs him on the back of the head, turning to each other with wide grins. And as she looks at him, his smile becoming softer, more personal, she knows that Wells is right; that it is okay. 

She may be confused about everything, may not know where this thing between them is going, but she’s got her middle ground for a little while longer.

***

The following weeks fly by quickly for Clarke. She’s as busy as ever working both her usual job as well as the one at Marcus’ company, continuing to see Bellamy and attempt to sort out her feelings for him (which she’s come to accept is kind of a hopeless crush that she’s not planning to act on but doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon), all the while trying to maintain some semblance of a social life and raise her fast growing daughter.

So it seems like no time at all since she was handing Bellamy an invitation to her mum’s party, to where he is now frantically texting her asking how “smart” smart casual is in her family.

She responds with something that’s definitely not helpful at all, because she enjoys being an asshole on occasion, but after exchanging a few snarky texts (and Clarke finally receiving one from Octavia informing her that Bellamy’s freaking out about the party), she tells him that trousers and a shirt with no tie should be fine, only feeling slightly bad for her teasing.

She’s continued to think a lot about Octavia’s words since their conversation just over a month ago, and has found comfort in the fact that Bellamy, too, might be finding his relationship with Clarke confusing. But she’s still not sure what it means. Does he like her? In the same way that she likes him? Does it make a difference when their situation hasn’t changed? 

Not really, no. Well, it shouldn’t. Still, she can’t deny the part of her that wonders what it actually means, mostly because those thoughts comes hand in hand with guilt when her mind inevitably goes back to Gemma.

She’s broken from her thoughts when her phone buzzes again, but instead of finding another text from Bellamy, there’s a picture of him - a mirror selfie, no less - in what she’s guessing is a potential party outfit. 

And he looks good. Not done up professionally in the way she’s used to seeing him after a day at work, or all casual like he is when they spend weekends together. No, he’s found a place in between: dark trousers with a light blue shirt that works wonders with his tan complexion, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, hair artfully dishevelled, smile sheepish and completely endearing.

Clarke eyes the photo for what’s probably a little too long, before swallowing thickly and typing out a quick confirmation that _yes_ , that outfit will work. It’s easy to say that she’s thankful when the bell of the shop alerts her to a new customer. It’s Niylah, and she’s smiling widely when she spots Clarke, quickly arching an eyebrow as she takes in what Clarke can only imagine is her dishevelled expression.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, placing her phone screen-side down on the counter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look all flushed and guilty.” She studies Clarke for a moment before smirking. “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing,” she insists, registering that her voice is a little too shrill. 

“Uh-huh. Want to try that again?”

Clarke groans, which has become her custom reaction whenever she catches herself thinking about Bellamy these days, and hands Niylah her phone. It’s weird how well they’ve worked as friends since that first date, but Clarke’s coming to find that she’s a good person to vent to, especially when she has no knowledge of Clarke’s situation other than what she provides.

“He’s hot,” Niylah observes, appraising the photo before handing Clarke’s phone back. “If I was into guys I’d say probably be more enthusiastic.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke provides after a beat, noting the smiling emojis he’s sent through with her positive outfit response. 

“ _That’s_ Bellamy? Wow, no wonder your kid is so cute.” Clarke groans again, eliciting a chuckle from her friend. “I’m just saying! So, what? You like him?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“When you look like that after seeing a fully clothed photo of a guy, yeah, it’s that obvious.”

“Fuck.”

“Please tell me you’re more discrete in real life, Clarke.”

“I am,” she assures, hoping to god that it’s true. “It’s just - you know when you like someone but haven’t really admitted it to yourself yet? But once you do it’s so obvious and you can’t stop noticing how cute they are, or how nice their laugh is?” Niylah smiles, only a little sympathetic, and nods. “Well that’s what’s happening to me. About Bellamy. Obviously my life is a mess.”

“Glad I got out of it when I did,” Niylah teases.

“Shut up,” Clarke responds, but is unable to keep the grin from tugging at her lips. Niylah’s honestly great, and it would’ve been awesome to have a real shot with her, but she’s right when she said Clarke has a lot on her plate at the moment. This conversation only furthers to proves it. “Are you going to offer any advice?”

“I don’t think I have any that’s specific enough for these circumstances.” Clarke sighs and Niylah grins. “ _But_ , it’s easy to see that you’re getting in your head about it too much. Crushes pass, Clarke, and I know this must be more…complicated than it would be with someone else, but you don’t have to freak yourself out about it, you know? Just let it be and eventually you’ll realise you’re over it.”

Clarke worries her lip, because it’s exactly what she’s been telling herself, save for one important thing. “What if I don’t want to get over it?”

“Oh,” Niylah says, eyebrows raised in surprise before her whole expression softens. “Isn’t that okay, too? If you talked to him you guys could work something out? Try dating or something?”

“And what about Gemma? If we fucked it up it would hurt her the most.”

“Clarke,” Niylah says, laughing with a mixture of helplessness and sympathy, which is probably fair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You seem to have two options here: to move past it or to give it a go. But it’s not for me to convince you.”

“I know,” Clarke sighs, shaking her head. “Fuck, I know. You caught me at a bad moment. I’m usually more together than this.”

“I’m sure you are,” Niylah smiles. “Just think about what I said. You’ll probably feel better if you make a decision one way or the other, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Clarke agrees, because she knew this would come soon enough. The middle ground couldn’t last forever, and apparently she’s reached the end of its time. 

It’s for the best honestly, because it was making her go a little crazy. Everything she’s feeling for Bellamy constantly swirling through her mind; a confusing mixture of happiness and guilt with no promise of closure either way.

“Are you off soon?”.

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke nods, finding there’s only fifteen more minutes of her shift. “Why?”

“Coffee and dress shopping. You need something for your mum’s party right?”

“You know so much about my life.”

“It’s because all you do is talk about yourself.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Sounds like me,” and Niylah laughs happily.

She waits around while Clarke finishes, finding a few more products to buy for the kids she nannies for, and after Clarke closes, they make their way to a shopping department close by.

It’s more fun than Clarke first anticipated, mostly because Niylah sacrifices herself to act as a model for one truly awful dress for every three legitimate ones that Clarke has to try on. After an hour and a half they’ve narrowed it down to two dresses: one that's off-white with hints of gold throughout, hugging Clarke's curves tastefully and ending just above the knee, and the other which is a silky royal purple; tight across the chest before flowing into a lovely skirt.

“Heads and tails?” Niylah suggests, coin in hand as they break for coffee and try to decide which dress is best. 

Clarke laughs, but figures that it isn’t a bad way to come to a decision. And then an idea hits her, and she realises that it could be helpful in more than just one way.

“Heads for white, tails for purple,” she decides aloud, and then to herself: heads to make a move, tails to actively move on. 

Niylah flicks the coin up with her thumb, letting it land on the table between them. Clarke doesn't hold her breath while it spins on the table top, but her nerves do flare in anticipation. It's ridiculous that her life has come to this point, honestly, but sometimes it's easier to let fate decide these things.  


When it stops spinning Clarke releases a deep breath, unsure exactly how to feel. Conflicted maybe. Relieved definitely.

“Good,” Niylah says, shooting Clarke a grin. “I liked that dress better anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG ASS CHAPTER it's been a while, ay?  
> Look a lot happens here, but i really didn't want to split the chapter into two (again), so. Deal w it.  
> Enjoy :)

It’s the Saturday after Clarke’s shopping trip with Niylah that the dress actually comes up again. Well, in more of a way than the knowledge of its implications running wild through her mind, making Clarke question her sanity because she _flipped a fucking_ _coin_ to make her decision.

Still, despite how rampant those worries are, she’s able to keep them just to herself, and ignores the fact that it feels like the dress is silently judging her from where she hung it up in her closet three days ago and promptly ignored it. 

But then Raven messages her as she’s relaxing in bed, a book in hand because Gemma’s spending the usual Saturday afternoon at Bellamy’s and she’s finally got some time to herself, and asks what Clarke’s wearing to Abby’s party. 

It’s kind of funny that all of her friends are going to her mum’s 50th, but ever since finding out she was pregnant and subsequently having Gemma as a single mother, they’ve become her family, and she knows how grateful her mum is for each and every one of them. They’ve all spent a lot of time together over the years, and Clarke knows her mum is past her days of only wanting to mix with the elite. Now she just wants friends and family she actually enjoys spending time with. Which includes Clarke’s ragtag group of friends that have gotten her through pretty much everything she’s had to face.

Clarke sighs, replacing the bookmark in her novel and setting it down on her bedside table. She taps out a response to Raven, letting her know what she’s planning on wearing and how she’s thinking of doing her hair and makeup, but knows that Raven will want a photo.

And sure enough, the text she receives is a simple: _pics_ , and Clarke figures that she isn’t going to hold out on her friend, so may as well get it over with. 

With a deep breath, feeling incredibly overdramatic because at the end of the day it _is_ just a dress, she finds where it’s covered in a garment bag and pulls it out. 

It’s as lovely as she remembers, which comes as a small relief, and before Clarke can think twice she’s stripping to her underwear and stepping into the unzipped number.

And it still looks good on her, as well; complementing her fair features, her sun-kissed skin. She slips on a pair of heels and pins her hair into a quick up-do before letting her eyes rake over her reflection in the mirror. A smile pulls on her lips and a warmth spread through her chest. Butterflies fluttering in her stomach and her heart beginning to swell.

It’s been a while since she’s done herself up like this. She spends most of her time in clothes that won’t mind some spaghetti sauce or paint thrown on them, and it’s easy to forget when she’s focussed on so many other things in her life, but - she can look pretty nice when she wants to. Gorgeous, even. 

But it’s more than just that, and when she snaps a photo of herself and sends it to Raven, Clarke’s reminded of why it feels that way.

_You look like you’re getting married in that dress,_ Raven responds, along with a bunch of emojis that are definitely of approval. _Stunning, babe. Seriously._

And she realises that she kind of does. In a dress that’s close to white, hugging her body in a tasteful manner, with delicate hints of gold weaved throughout, she probably could be the bride of a casual, easy-going wedding. 

_Who says I’m not?_ she shoots back, letting a grin grow on her face despite herself. She does look beautiful, but it’s more than that. She knows what this means. 

_White dress._

_Make a move._

***

It’s later in the evening, when Gemma’s playing in the lounge room and Clarke’s drying the dishes Bellamy washes, that she tells him. 

“I think we should tell Gemma.”

“Tell her what?” He asks absently, and she can’t help but smile at the way he’s distracted, not really taking in what Clarke’s saying completely.

She was able to get a bit more thinking done in the afternoon before joining Bellamy and Gemma for dinner in what’s now a typical Saturday evening.

Thinking that allowed her to realise that _make a move_ isn’t exactly what she’s planning to do. More correctly she’s going to consider a relationship with Bellamy as an actual possibility, and not just as an out-of-reach-and-genuinely-terrifying fantasy. She’s going to think about it logistically, try to figure out whether he’s even _interested,_ and hopefully, if it pans out, she’ll talk to him. Actually discuss how she’s feeling about him _, with_ him. 

And it feels good to have a plan of sorts in mind. She knows it’ll take time; that it needs to be a slow process if she’s going to do it right, but. It still feels good.

It’s also allowed her to think more clearly about Bellamy’s relationship with Gemma. 

She still has that conflicted feeling tugging on her stomach with her decision, like she’s betraying her daughter in some way, but with a bit of time to process it’s lessened. And honestly, it’s also made her realise that her own feelings for Bellamy aren’t clouding her judgement and worries as much as she knows they have in the past. So when she really thought about it today, she realised she was ready for the next step between him and Gemma.

It was just a coincidence that when she arrived this evening it was during story-time, Bellamy reading a new one to Gem about a family that loved their cheeky, energetic, little girl. Still, coincidence or not, it made Clarke’s heart hurt, thinking about Gemma not knowing who he really was, and her previous realisation was reaffirmed.

So she says, “About you,” and tries not to hold her breath. 

His hands still in sink and she catches her lip between her teeth. He’s going to be happy, she knows, but there’s still a small part of her that’s buzzing with nervous energy, wondering how he’s going to respond.

“Yeah?” He asks, still facing away from her, but she can hear the hope that colours his voice. It makes her smile.

“Yeah,” she says, firm. Sure. Because despite everything she’s feeling about _herself_ and Bellamy, this is something that needs to happen. Something that she’s ready for. 

Bellamy turns around slowly, and his smile is so fucking bright as he gazes down at her. He doesn’t bother to dry his hands before pulling Clarke into a hug, and water stains her top, droplets running down her back slowly, but she doesn’t care.

Not when his face is crooked into her neck and his breath is heavy against her skin, deep inhales and shaky exhales. Not when he’s holding onto her the way that he is; like she’s just given him the world. Not when he pulls away and she can see tears in his eyes, or when he leans down and presses his lips to her forehead carefully.

One last deep breath and then, “When do you want to do it?” He asks, voice thick. She’s glad he doesn’t say thank you, because at some point he needs to stop thinking she’s doing him a favour each time they take a new step.

“I was thinking tomorrow. Maybe by myself, just so she has a bit of space.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees, nodding. “That’s a good idea.”

“I can message you after, and if it all goes smoothly maybe you could come around for dinner.”

“That sounds - great, Clarke. Really good.” 

“Okay.” She takes his still-wet hand and gives it a squeeze, offers a smile. Her heart feels so full as she looks at him, and when he returns her smile it feels like it could burst. “She’ll be fine, Bell. It’s an adjustment, but she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just - scary.” 

“Good scary?”

“Good scary,” he confirms. “It’s - she probably won’t get it that much, will she? What it actually means? It’ll mostly be if she calls me…” He trails off, eyes moving to where Gemma is playing in the lounge room.

“Dad,” Clarke supplies, soft.

“Yeah,” Bellamy breathes out, looking back to her. “I don’t want to force her into calling me that, but…it’d be nice if she did.”

“She will,” Clarke assures. “She’s young, Bell, and - maybe it’s harder to explain everything to her, but it also means she won’t remember you not being here. I don’t want to hide it from her, but - adjusting is easier when you’re younger.”

Bellamy nods slowly before pressing another kiss to her forehead, thumb running against the curve of her cheek. He turns back around, and Clarke can see how he takes a few deep breaths before starting to clean up again. She decides to leave him be to process, and goes to find Gemma where she’s constructing and knocking down stacks of blocks. 

They stay for a little while longer, and it reminds Clarke of how it was at the very beginning. Bellamy looks at Gemma with wide, bright eyes, taking in every movement and every expression carefully. He smiles to himself softly, with a hint of something like disbelief in there, too, and he quickly gets lost in his own thoughts; face dazed as he stares at his daughter. Clarke’s hand finds his whenever it happens; bringing him back to the present with her touch, with her smile, and he returns it every time with a sheepish one of his own.

And she’d be lying if she said this didn’t play a part in her feelings, because yes, she liked Bellamy way back when and she likes so many things about him now that are separate from how he is with their daughter. But still, seeing how he is with their daughter? It makes her feel so _warm_ inside. It makes her body flood with utter amazement that they _made_ Gemma together; that after three years of not seeing him and countless attempts to find him, they’re here now. In this moment. Together.

When she finally decides it’s time to leave Bellamy peppers kisses all over Gemma’s face, making the little girl giggle with delight, and Clarke murmurs reassurances to him when they hug, a promise to keep him updated. He still looks nervous, which she can’t blame him for, but she’s glad she was here for him for those few hours; a reminder that she’s here for support. 

It isn’t until the next day that her own nerves begins gnawing on her stomach, making her heart beat quickly in her chest. Compartmentalisation is something she’s always been good at, so reassuring Bellamy’s worries and calming his nerves last night brought her something to focus on, and it was easy to ignore her own feelings about telling her daughter. But now that it’s actually time, it is a little daunting.

She makes apple pikelets because they’re Gem’s favourite, and after breakfast sits them down on the couch. Gemma crawls into her lap and Clarke kisses her on the top of the nose.

“Hey, button,” Clarke begins, carding her fingers through her daughter’s blonde curls. “How do you feel about Bellamy?”

She grins instantly, which is a good sign. “I like Bellme! He reads me books.”

“Yeah, he does,” Clarke agrees with a smile. He’s a great storyteller actually, and Clarke often finds herself drawn into children’s tales by his voice alone. “Well I know Bellamy likes you a lot, too. He tells me how much fun it is to play with you and read to you.”

Gemma giggles, wriggling off Clarke’s lap so she’s lying down along the couch, feet resting on her thighs. 

“Button, you have a lot of family that loves you. Me and Gramma and Grandpa. You’re our precious little duck,” she says with a smile, tickling Gem’s small belly to make her squirm and laugh. A breath, and, “But more people love you than just us, Gem. I know Bellamy loves you a lot… that he wants to be your family, just like Mummy is.” The little girl nods slowly, eyes curious. Clarke’s not sure how much she actually understands, but she does know what parents and family are, so it makes this conversation at least a little easier. “Well, Bellamy is your daddy, button. He’s one of your parents, like Mummy is, and he loves you just like Mummy does.”

Gemma’s brow furrows, a small hand swiping her face to move one of her stray curls. She looks a bit confused, but not angry or upset. Clarke waits, letting the little girl ponder what she’s just said. 

Eventually she sits up and says, “okay. I wanna play.”

“Okay, baby,” Clarke says softly, surprised when Gemma leans in for a hug. She wraps her arms around her daughter and presses a kiss on the crown of her head. “I love you, button.”

“Love you,” Gemma echoes before sliding off the couch and moving to find some toys.

Clarke gets off the couch too, walking to the kitchen and flicking on the kettle. A cup of tea sounds like heaven right about now. She watches Gemma as she plays in the lounge room, Occi in hand, and tries to discern how her daughter is feeling. She doesn’t look upset, but she’s not as boisterous as she usually is. It’s hard to know what she’s thinking when she’s so young; Clarke can’t count on normal communication, and while she knows Gemma won’t understand _completely_ what Bellamy being her dad means, she still wonders if the little girl understands more than she lets on.

She gets more energetic and cheerful in the following couple of hours playing at home, and Clarke decides to take them to the park for lunch because it’s a clear, sunny day and they could both use the fresh air. She packs some fruit, sandwiches and a few sweets, as well as juice and a picnic rug, and after making sure all their sunscreen is rubbed in properly and Gemma has her hat, they head off a little before noon.

It’s not too busy for a Sunday, and Clarke’s able to find them a nice spot in the grass that’s got some sun and some shade. After setting up she takes Gem to the usual playground, keeping an eye on her as she makes the rounds on the slide and pushing her when she wants to go on the swing. 

Her phone chirps after a little while, and she smiles when she sees Bellamy’s _How are you?_ which is completely unsubtle. But instead of teasing him like she kind of wants to, she types back _It went well, don't worry,_ because she knows he must be freaking out. 

“Gem?” She asks, gaining her daughter’s attention. “Do you think you’d like to see Bellamy today? I know he loves playing with you at the park.”

“Yeah!” Gemma says, smiling, and Clarke feels a flood of relief wash through her. “He pushes me high!”

“Higher than I do,” Clarke agrees with a chuckle. She sends him a quick message telling him to meet them at the park if he has time, and receives _Be there in 30_ in twenty seconds flat. 

After some more playing and running around Clarke is able to tire Gemma out enough to return to their spot in the grass for some lunch. 

She sees Bellamy before Gemma does, in a simple top and shorts and wearing a fucking _snapback_ , which makes her grin. His movements are hesitant though; walking more slowly than he usually does, hands wringing together in front of him.

“Gem,” Clarke says softly, before nodding towards Bellamy to let her know he’s here.

She lights up at the sight of him, tilting her head slightly at Clarke and asking “Bellme’s Daddy?”

“Yeah, button, he is.”

Gemma nods, and Clarke shoots him a reassuring grin. His steps become more sure and his expression relaxes, but she can still see the nerves etched on his face as he comes to sit with them.

“Hey, monkey,” Bellamy greets to Gem, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey, princess.”

“Hey, Bell.” She pours him some juice and hands over a sandwich. Bellamy smiles at her gratefully, eyes shifting nervously to Gemma.

But she’s eating away happily, and more importantly _normally_. When she finishes her sandwich and wants some more food, she accepts Bellamy’s offer of strawberries and grapes with greedy fingers. He smiles at her fondly, asking how her day’s been and making sure to include Clarke in the conversation, too. 

When they’ve all finished eating and had some downtime to let their tummies settle, Gemma tugs Bellamy back towards the playground. With his raised eyebrows Clarke nods, encouraging, and watches as the two head unsurprisingly to the swings.

She packs up their stuff and goes to join the pair a few minutes later, and the three of them spend the next half hour playing together as a family; Gemma giggling as both Clarke and Bellamy chase her around the playground, dissolving into fits of laughter when they pop out of nowhere and surprise her. 

After a while though Clarke can see her normal excitement has extended to delirium, and she really needs a nap.

“Time to go, button,” she laughs, catching her daughter as she comes off the slide with almost manic laughter. She squirms in Clarke’s hold, but when she simply brings Gemma’s head to her chest and cards her fingers through her hair, the little girl relaxes into her. 

“Need a lift?” Bellamy asks as they grab their things. He runs his thumb over Gemma’s forehead soothingly, and she holds out her arms to be transferred. Clarke rolls her eyes when Bellamy raises his brow in question, happily handing over Gemma. She wouldn’t consider herself weak, but having to hold her daughter for extended periods of time is definitely getting more difficult as she grows.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” she replies when Gemma’s in her dad’s arms. 

She’s asleep by the time they reach Clarke’s place, just a five minute drive, and Bellamy brings her into the apartment. He sets her gently in bed, and they both press kisses onto her cheek before creeping out of her room quietly.

Clarke’s not quite ready for him to leave though. They haven’t had any time to themselves since she came to her decision, and now that she has she can’t help herself. She likes him and she wants to spend time with him, so she offers him a beer - it is a nice, warm day, after all - and is delighted when he accepts it eagerly. She leads him outside into the courtyard, letting the sun warm up her skin as they sit side by side at the table. 

He’ll also want to know how everything with Gemma went, even though he won’t ask her first, so she offers, “It went well, Bell.”

“Yeah?” He asks, and she can hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah. Probably as well as can be expected at her age.”

“What did she, uh, say?”

Clarke thinks it over. “When I asked her how she felt about you she said she liked you a lot. You’re better at telling stories and pushing her on the swing than I am, apparently.” He chuckles at that and Clarke smiles into her next sip of beer. “And when I told her that you were her dad, she looked confused maybe, but not upset. I don’t think she really gets what it means, but I told her that you love her, just like I do, and want to be her family, just like I am. She was fine, Bell; you saw how she was at the park.”

“She _was_ good at the park,” he agrees, a fond smile pulling at his lips. “Clarke, I don’t want to push anything, but—” a hard swallow, “—but it would mean a lot if she started calling me Dad.”

Clarke lays her hand on top of his, surprised when he turns it over and laces their fingers together.

“She will, Bellamy,” she tells him, voice gentle but still firm. “She knows who you are, Bell. And yeah, if she was older I wouldn’t push her into calling you anything until she was ready, but it would feel like lying if I didn’t keep calling you her dad. You’ve put your love and devotion into your relationship with her. You take care of her and you have fun with her and you make sure she’s comfortable with everything you do. You’re acting like her parent. You _are_ her parent. The name will come.”

Bellamy nods, eyes focused on the bottle in front of him as he swallows. When he looks back to her his eyes are glassy; his expression more vulnerable than she’s seen in a long while.

“I’m her parent?” He asks, like he needs the confirmation once more and her approval is as good as it gets. She understands; of course she does.

“You’re her dad, Bell.”

He nods again, bringing their linked hands to his mouth and kissing the back of hers. Her skin sparks alight with the touch, and she knows this is about him and Gemma, but the intimate gesture still gets her heart racing for completely selfish reasons.

“Thanks, princess.”

“Anytime,” she says, and his smile is small but grateful. “I mean it, Bellamy. Anytime.”

They move onto lighter conversation after that, and after another beer in the sun she’s feeling warm and sleepy and a little tipsy. It relaxes the nerves she didn’t know were tingling her skin, and makes it easier to just be with him; not worrying about all the things that usually whirl through her mind. Laughter comes easily as they move from one silly topic to the next ridiculous one, large grins of their faces and tears prickling their eyes, until Bellamy makes Clarke admit “Yes, I cried like a baby when Toy Story 3 came out.”

“Ah-ha!” He exclaims, smile smug and triumphant. “I knew you’d be a crier.”

“I bet you did, too,” she accuses, eyes narrowed.

“Oh I definitely did, princess,” he laughs lightly, tipping his bottle to her in concession. “I just didn’t want you to think you were above it all.”

“Shut up,” she says, rolling her eyes even when her smile betrays the act. “Disney’s good at making you cry. It’s definitely not my fault.”

“Well there’s some truth in that,” he grants, knocking their shoulders together. A minute of comfortable silence before, “It’s the first time I went anywhere like that, you know?”

“Hm?”

“When you took me to Disneyland,” he explains, chancing a nervous glance at Clarke. She immediately straightens. They rarely acknowledge anything from _before_ now. “O and I, we didn’t grow up with much money. I know I said some stuff when we met, but it’s been three years and—”

“I remember, Bell.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I remember pretty much everything about that trip.”

Bellamy smiles, and she doesn’t know whether she’s imagining the hint of sadness in his eyes. “Well yeah, like I said, we didn’t grow up with much money. We were poor, honestly, so - doing that stuff? It was something I would dream about when I was really young, and something I was bitter about when I was older. Not for me, but for O. Not being able to go on family trips like that because our mum couldn’t scrape up enough money even working three jobs.”

Clarke swallows, tentatively taking Bellamy’s hand again. His eyes are no longer on her but he curls his fingers around hers. 

“So when you took me there it was weird.”

Clarke’s eyes fall shut and a surge of guilt washes through her, because she remembers exactly how that day went down. She didn’t tell him where they were going until it was too late, and knowing that he might’ve felt uncomfortable being there? Well, even though it was three years ago it still makes her feel awful.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. I never meant—”

“No, no, no,” he says, turning to face her again, expression sincere. “That’s not what I meant, Clarke. You changed that for me. For ten years I hated this thing on principle, and then you took me there and - and we laughed and rode the rollercoasters and took photos with Disney characters and ate stupid, expensive food. We had fun, you know?” Clarke nods, still hesitant. “It just reminded me of that; talking about Toy Story. And I wanted to say thank you again. That entire trip; getting to know you. It was all amazing, so thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” she says, a spark from low in her belly spreading through her; all the way to the tips of her fingers, still entwined in his. 

The moment feels heavy, Clarke’s heart beginning to race in her chest as they look at one another. It’s strange to acknowledge their time together so long ago, but it’s even more so when the conversation feels like it’s becoming deeper. Not just about their time together, but also about their feelings, and Clarke feels like she’s a breath away from admitting everything to Bellamy; telling him she _likes_ him, has a goddamn _crush_ on him. One that’s growing and growing and growing the more time she spends with him. 

Instead, because she’s a little tipsy but definitely not drunk, and knows she’d regret saying anything before she thought it through properly, she says, “Well, thank you, too. It was a good trip.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Life changing,” she muses with a grin, because she could’ve sworn she saw him deflate the tiniest bit.

It works- Bellamy barking out a laugh at her joke. “A good kind of life changing.”

“The best,” Clarke agrees, and they share another smile. “Speaking of that life, it’s probably time she wakes up.”

“Yeah. She’s been down for a bit over an hour now.” 

Clarke nods, collecting their bottles and walking back inside, skin feeling incredibly flushed for more reasons than just the sun. “You gonna stay?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

She throws him a smile over her shoulder. “Of course it’s alright. Go get Gem while I clean up.”

Bellamy grins before heading back to wake Gemma up for the afternoon. The rest of the day passes by in a typical fashion, but Clarke does refer to Bellamy as Daddy when she’s talking one-on-one with Gemma. She handles it well, understanding who Clarke’s talking about as long as she points to where Bell is, but she doesn’t call him that herself. It’ll take time, but it feels like a start, and it’s good enough for now.

Later in the evening when Clarke’s cooking dinner and Bellamy’s testing Gemma on the alphabet and counting, she asks “So how’re you feeling about Mum’s?”

“Uh, good,” he says unconvincingly. She shoots him a look and he sighs. “Okay, pretty nervous, actually.”

“All my friends are going,” she tells him. “So you’ll have people you now. More than just me, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his fair, which is a tell-tale sign he’s still anxious.

“Do you want to ask your sister to come along? In case you need some back up? A familiar face?”

“You’re a familiar face,” he mutters before sighing again. “But I can’t just hang around you the whole time.”

Clarke ducks her head to hide a smile, but still feeling all light and fluttery from the sun and the beers and their earlier conversation, decides she doesn’t care if he sees.“You could try,” she teases, earning a smile that makes her heart swell. “But seriously, if you wanna invite O and Lincoln, that’s totally fine. I know Mum and Marcus would be happy to meet them.”

“And you won’t mind?”

“Nah, not at all.” She puts the last vegetables in a pot to begin simmering away before sliding into the stool next to his to give him her undivided attention. “I’ll probably have quite a few people I’ll be roped into talking to, so it’ll be good for you to have an alternative. Plus, well, not everyone knows what’s happened in the last few months - between us, I mean - so it might help to avoid some awkward conversations.” 

“That would be nice,” he muses, chuckling. “Alright, that’d be good. Thanks, Clarke.”

“Seriously, Bell, it’s fine,” she insists. “Now, are we quizzing Gem or what?”

He grins, shaking his head, fond. “Yeah, let’s get back to it.”

For the next hour they do just that - helping Gemma out when she gets stuck on the next letter or number; sharing amused glances every time she skips one or doubles back; being told off because they laugh too much when their bossy girl _obviously_ needs their full attention - and Clarke feels a lot like she did that day on the beach weeks ago; recognising Bellamy as part of her family, recognising that she loves him in a particular way.

And as they settle Gemma down for bed later that night, and she tells Bellamy she loves him for the first time unprompted, it’s a relief to know that she’s beginning to recognise that for herself, too.

***

While Abby’s come a long way from where she once cared about snooty, exclusive galas and rich, not-so-sincere friends, she definitely still knows how to throw a party like she used to. 

“Wow, Mum,” Clarke laughs as she finds her mum in the kitchen. 

It’s already a good party space; hallway flowing into a large kitchen-lounge area which is separated from the back deck with glass sliding doors. But Abby’s done it up really nicely: pushing the furniture back to open up the inside area, a drinks station Clarke can see is housing quite a few bottles of champagne, along with some spirits, fairy lights running across the pergola outside and decorations of flowers and balloons and streamers she’s somehow made work. But Clarke’s personal favourite is-

“A chocolate fountain?” She asks, snorting a laugh. It’s set up on the dining table, where Clarke’s guessing a lot more food will join it. 

“Don’t ask,” Abby says, rolling her eyes. “Marcus got it as a surprise.”

Clarke laughs again, walking over to pull her mum into a big hug. “Happy Birthday, Mum!”

“Thanks, baby,” Abby replies, smile in her voice as she hugs Clarke back. 

“The big five-oh. Do you feel old yet?”

“I’m a grandmother, of course I feel old.”

“That’s true,” Clarke grants cheekily, prompting her mum to poke out her tongue.

“Speaking of which, where’s Gem?”

“Marcus took her upstairs to get toys for the next few hours while we finish everything up.”

“Smart.”

“Yep,” Clarke agrees. “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

They’ve got three hours until guests will start arriving, so it’s a lot of preparing for things to go in the oven or fridge. Clarke’s able to get quite a bit done considering she’s not an amazing cook, and both she and Abby are feeling relaxed as the count down continues. 

They break a bit after four, when Gemma’s getting impatient because she wants to give Abby her present and the poorly decorated (not that Clarke says so) cupcake they brought over. Abby lets Gem help her unwrap the present, revealing the usual perfume Clarke always buys her mum, along with a photo of a piece of artwork Clarke bought but has yet to be delivered. After singing happy birthday - well, Clarke and Marcus sing while Gemma mumbles along - Abby blows out the single candle on the cupcake, and shares it with her granddaughter when she asks for some _please_.

After a bit more downtime they get back to work, and are able to finish with an hour to spare, which is perfect timing to get themselves ready. Marcus volunteers to give Gemma a bath, which is completely unsurprising, and Clarke makes her way to her former room. 

Abby and Marcus still haven’t moved back into the room, even though Clarke hasn’t lived at the house for five months now. She suspects it’s because they always want her and Gemma to have a place to stay if they need. It’s a sweet gesture, and she feels a surge of love and fondness for the pair, which she’s guessing won’t be for the last time of the day.

After a nice, hot shower, Clarke going as far as to _shave her legs_ , she shrugs on a light dressing gown and blasts some party music to begin getting ready. She makes it as far as blowdrying her hair and moisturising her legs before Gemma’s dropped off to the room, and she switches it to a Disney playlist because it’s a little more kid friendly. She’s never actually gotten herself dressed up this much while she’s with Gemma, and it’s surprisingly a lot of fun. A dance party easily breaks out that has them both laughing a lot, and when Clarke does her makeup Gemma finds it hilarious that she makes ridiculous faces. 

A knock on the door during a rendition of _I’ll Make A Man Out Of You_ has Clarke turning down the volume, only to find Raven on the other side of the door.

“Not even dressed,” she mock scolds, grinning as she finds Gemma jumping on the bed. 

“Blame your god daughter.”

“I always do.”

It’s easier to finish after that. Raven finds Gemma’s flowery dress and helps the little girl into it, even going so far to put her hair into two plaits.

Clarke, meanwhile, finishes off her makeup with some liquid eyeliner and a red lipstick before putting her hair into a crown braid. Raven wolf whistles once she’s in her dress and heels, and even though Clarke rolls her eyes she still finds it flattering. 

They make it downstairs a few minutes after the first few guests arrive, just past six, and Clarke’s immediately pulled into a conversation with one of her mum’s work friends, introducing her daughter when Raven betrays her for Wick.

The first hour passes easily, a steady inflow of people until the house is decently-filled, a buzz of chatter over the thrum of music. Clarke doesn’t actually notice when more of her own friends arrive, busy talking to Marcus’ mother Vera and two of her aunts on her mum’s side, but after letting them know how both she and Gem are (and confirming that Bellamy’s a good guy when they ask, only a little exasperated), she finds them and accepts the vodka tonic Wells thrusts into her hand.

“I didn’t think my mum knew this many people,” she grumbles, looking over the crowd to make sure Gemma is still playing with some of Clarke’s cousin’s kids. 

“She’s a popular woman, that one,” Raven agrees, knocking their shoulders together. “When’s Bellamy getting here?”

“I don’t actually know,” Clarke admits. She’s been pretty busy the whole afternoon, not having a chance to text and check in. “He’s bringing O and Lincoln though.”

“Really?” Monty chimes in, excited. “This party is looking awesome. Free booze. Chocolate fountain. Your mum’s pastries.”

“That sounds like a euphemism,” Monroe snarks, prompting a glare from both Miller and Monty. “Creepy,” she tells them, judging, and receives laughter from the group in response.

In the following half hour Clarke has to leave to talk to new arrivals she knows, so flits in and out of the group conversation while they catch up with one another, filling up on nibbles and champagne.

After checking on Gemma, asking if she’s tired and receiving an almost insulted expression in return, she sidles back up to Raven. The girl clears her throat pointedly, nodding towards the front of the now well-filled room. 

It’s Bellamy, without O or Lincoln in tow, eyes nervous as he scans the room for someone he knows. Clarke’s heart immediately picks up at the sight of him; looking so much fucking better in that outfit than the phone picture he sent two weeks ago could do justice. And when she ignores those feelings - coming from a very particular part of her - it’s also nice just to see him. He’s here because Clarke asked him to come, and it makes her smile, knowing he’s making an effort to be part of her family.

“Be a little less subtle, Clarke,” Raven mutters in her ear, breaking Clarke from her reverie.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. You’re being so fucking obvious, which probably isn’t your goal.”

“Actually…” Clarke says lowly, sighing when Raven arches a brow. “I’ve decided that I’m going to see where this goes. I flipped a coin.”

“Flipped a coin?” Raven echoes, unimpressed. Clarke nods. “God fu- you know what? Your life is a mess. I can’t believe _that’s_ how you made your decision. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you did, but flipping a coin? Jesus, Clarke. Go talk to him.”

Clarke flicks Raven on the forehead in retaliation, because _she_ knows how crazy the plan was, but she doesn’t need her friend telling her that, too. Before Raven can respond she makes her way to Bellamy, revelling in the way his eyes light up when he sees her. And then they rake over her form, taking in her done-up appearance, and a glint of something _more_ is there when he meets her gaze again. When she reaches him she can feel how hot her skin is. 

“Hey, Bell,” she greets, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek because two glasses of champagne tells her that’s a good idea. His hand makes it to her waist seemingly involuntarily, and it takes Clarke a moment to find her voice again. “How are you?”

“Yeah, good,” he says, clearing his throat when his words come out rough. “How are you?”

“Also good,” she smiles. He grins back and honestly this night is going to be hard to get through if he continues to look at her like that.

“You look - gorgeous, Clarke. Really, really beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” she says, biting back a smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” 

“Thanks,” he snorts, shaking his head with a fond smile. After a few beats of just staring at one another, “So, um, I should probably find your mum. I want to say happy birthday before I go hide away.”

Clarke rolls her eyes but nods for him to follow her. “O and Lincoln?”

“Running a bit late,” he tells her. “I’m, uh, sorry I was too. I was meant to, um, get a lift with them? But they were taking too long.”

“You wanted to come earlier to this? Really?”

“I didn’t want to be rude!” He defends, and Clarke laughs.

They find Abby quickly, Bellamy wishing her a happy birthday and thanking her for the invitation, handing over a present. She thanks him, adding it to a pile to be opened, and the three of them chat for a while before Abby’s attention is stolen by yet another guest.

Next is Gemma, and the little girl lights up ridiculously when she sees Bellamy, pulling him in to play with the small group of kids in the lounge, which of course he loves. Clarke stays, handing him a glass of champagne because he looks like he could use one, and soon enough her friends migrate over too. 

Bellamy eventually makes it out from underneath the pile of children on top of him while he lays on the floor, greeting the rest of Clarke’s - and kind of his now, too - friends. Octavia and Lincoln are the last to arrive, close to half past eight, and settle easily into the swing of the party once offered a drink. 

The night continues smoothly, the guests becoming drunker as the night goes on, which is mostly hilarious and only sometimes embarrassing. A dance floor opens up when Jasper hijacks the sound system, and Clarke dances with her mum and Gemma for a while before being roped in with the girls; twirling Harper above her head and spinning Raven in and out until they’re all close to falling over because they’re laughing too hard (and maybe also with the influence of champagne). 

Gemma makes it all the way to the speeches at nine thirty, which is honestly impressive, but when Clarke moves to make one of her own, insists that she be held. By Clarke specifically. 

Clarke figures it’s better to keep the little girl with her rather than risk a tantrum (she’s doing well but she’s still a hyped up toddler), and is met with chuckles from the crowd when she begins her speech with Gemma in her arms. 

She’s able to make it through most of it, which is a perfected combination of funny but heartwarming - she sent it to Raven for approval, and that was good enough for her - before Gemma gets antsy, squirming in her hold. 

“Baby, do you wanna get down?” She says quietly, ignoring the mixture of light laughter and _awww_ s from the crowd. Gemma shakes her head and Clarke sighs. “Do you wanna stay up here?” Another head shake, this time burying her face into Clarke’s neck. 

She worries her lip for a moment before catching Bellamy’s eye in the crowd. He looks like he wants to help but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to, and Clarke tilts her head in affirmation. She _would_ hand Gem over to her mum or Marcus, but thinks she’s got a bit of stage fright, and would prefer not being front and centre. She shakes Gemma lightly once Bellamy’s by their side, and the little girl moves to wrap her arms around his neck eagerly, relaxing into his hold. The sight makes Clarke’s heart melt, because she knows there are very few people who she’d be this comfortable with. And none that looked quite so good holding her kid as Bellamy does, but that’s definitely the alcohol talking.

“Thanks,” Clarke whispers, trying not to get too caught up with the image. Bellamy flashes her a smile in return, and Clarke takes a breath before resuming her speech. 

She ends it in an obligatory sappy way, thanking her mum for all of her love and support and wishing her a happy birthday one last time before hugging her tightly. She waits until Abby makes a quick speech herself, thanking everyone for coming, before she finds Bellamy in the crowd and nods for him to follow her upstairs. 

The noise has drowned out once they reach Gemma’s old room, and the girl is close to sleep when Bellamy changes her into some pyjamas. Clarke sings a soft lullaby when she gets her into bed, knowing it always helps her drift off, and sure enough only a few minutes later her eyes have fallen heavily and her breaths are coming evenly.

“Doing alright?” Clarke asks Bellamy once they’ve crept out of Gemma’s room into Clarke’s adjoining one. He’s done so well, even talking to some of Clarke’s extended family and braving their questions, though she’s glad they keep it mostly light hearted. Still, she feels like she should check in, because it’s a lot.

“Yeah,” Bellamy replies, smiling as he joins Clarke on the edge of her bed. “You’re mum knows a lot of people.”

“That’s what I said!”

He chuckles, and they sit together in companionable silence for a while. She rests her head on his shoulder eventually, encouraged by a combination of the warmth of him beside her and the alcohol flowing through her body and the fact that it’s been a long, long day.

After a few minutes though, she realises they should probably head back downstairs. She doesn’t want any curious looks from nosey guests, and she also doesn’t want to be rude and miss her mum’s party.

But feeling sulky she says, “Can you bribe me to go back? I’m tipsy and tired and my feet hurt.”

Bellamy snorts a laugh, shifting so he can stand up. He offers his hands to pull Clarke up, too. “Take your shoes off,” he says. “You’ll still look lovely without them, Clarke.” She grumbles to hide her flush from his compliment, slipping her heels off (which _does_ do a world of good). “And I’ll even let you have a dance if you make it down there.” 

“You sure know the way to a girl’s heart,” she replies, only half sarcastic. And then, because she’s had quite a few champagnes and can’t see a down side to it, “Deal.”

***

It’s on Tuesday, during her next shift at the art shop, that Clarke decides to set out time to do what she said she would and consider a relationship with Bellamy as an actual possibility. 

She figures, logistically, that there are three broad outcomes to her situation: t he first is that nothing happens at all.  The second is that she and Bellamy begin a relationship before splitting up for whatever reason.  And the third is that she and Bellamy begin a relationship and then just - continue to be in that relationship. For the rest of their lives, or something like that.

It’s odd to think about it in that way; that these three paths are what her relationship with him will boil down to, but then again, dating _anyone_ is kind of like that. You split up or you don’t. (And if the world is truly cruel like it was to her mother, then neither will happen and that’s just so much worse.)

But it’s not like dating _anyone_ , because it’s not just Clarke and Bellamy that would be affected. It’s Gemma, too.

So the issue then, Clarke realises, is how beginning a relationship, only to split up later, would affect Gemma. Even if they ended things amicably - which she can’t imagine them _not_ doing - it’s still a break up, and she knows that break ups can fuck kids up tremendously. Still, that’s something that every couple who have children has to face. 

What feels specific about Gemma is that she’s still developing her relationship with Bellamy. They’ve taken big steps recently, and everything feels like it’s moving along smoothly, but that doesn’t negate the time Bellamy hasn’t been here. 

One day it will. One day his absence won’t be an issue, because all Gemma will know is that he’s her father and always has been. Clarke wonders if it’s only then that starting a relationship would work. 

Wells interrupts her from her thoughts with a string of texts in a group chat with Raven, asking about their upcoming trip to Yosemite. It gives her some time to mull things over in the back of her mind, so she’s grateful. Over the next half hour they work out how they’re going to make the trip up, and what each of them is expected to bring camping gear wise and food wise. She messages Marcus to ask if he has a few items, and confirms with the group what she can supply.

But finally she gets an actual customer, and after tapping out a quick goodbye she goes to do her job. The guy leaves after twenty minutes of asking about the different paint brushes the shop supplies, but not before a few new people come in, and then Clarke’s distracted for a while longer. Once the customers have all left she checks her phone again, finding that both Wells and Raven had more to do than just text without her, and decides to keep thinking her previous point over.

Maybe it’s just downright _selfish_ to do something with Bellamy when she can’t make sure Gemma won’t be affected negatively.

And yet, despite that worry - because she never in a million years wants to hurt her daughter - she’s still drawn to the idea of a relationship with Bellamy. She still wants to talk to him and ask him how he feels about her. She still wants to spend the evenings after Gem’s gone to sleep with him. She still wants to laugh and joke around with him, not worrying that she’s crossing a line past friendship. She still wants to hold is hand and ruffle up his hair. She still wants to _kiss_ him. 

She wants it, and ultimately, that’s what gets her.

Because even if they gave it a try and it didn’t work out, Bellamy wouldn’t just leave. He’d stay in Gemma’s life and continue to love her and be her father, just as he's doing now.

But if Clarke _didn’t_ do anything; is she let this pass her by because she was afraid? It’d feel like such a huge loss, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to miss a chance with him because she’s scared, even when her worries and doubts are completely legitimate.

So she decides that she’s going to tell him. She’s going to tell him, and if he wants to give it a go too, then they can do it right. Slow, but right.

And just like her last decision did, this one makes Clarke feel better. More clear headed, a weight lifting off her chest, a smile growing on her face because despite the nerves it’s still _exciting,_ and she’s still happy. 

She feels a whole lot lighter when she finishes work, a bounce in her step as she makes her way to the car, planning to pick Gemma up from daycare and spend an hour or two at the park.

Just after she begins the drive home, heading towards the end of the street, her phone starts ringing, Abby’s name coming up on the screen in the car. 

“Hey mum,” Clarke answers, a giddiness to her voice even she can hear as she flicks on her indicator to turn into the next street. And then she frowns, thinking about their conversation earlier in the day. “Aren’t you on shift? What’s up?”

“ _Clarke_ ,” Abby says after a few beats of silence. Her name is broken on her mum’s lips and it takes Clarke back to a time when she was seventeen, dread instantly flooding through her.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, already pulling onto the side of the road. “Mum, what’s happened?” 

“Where are you?”

“I’m driving home.”

“You need to - stop driving, okay? Pull over.”

“I _have_ ,” Clarke insists, panic rising in her. This phone call feels way too familiar. “ _Mum, tell me what the fuck is going on._ ”

Silence, and Clarke’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. Memories of her dad flash through her mind, and she hopes and hopes and hopes that it isn’t like that but—

“It’s Wells,” Abby finallywhispers, choking on the boy’s name, and Clarke feels everything within her drop. “He’s been in a car accident and it’s - it’s bad, Clarke. He’s being prepped for surgery at the moment, but - I think you should come in. It’s bad.”

“No,” Clarke replies, shaking her head with disbelief. “ _No._ I was just talking to him, Mum. It wasn’t even two hours ago, so he can’t—” She releases a shaky breath. “It has to be a mistake. It can’t be him.”

“Baby,” Abby says, gentle but firm, and that’s how she knows it’s true. “It’s him. I saw him myself. I’m about to head into surgery in case they need extra hands”

“ _No,_ ” she repeats, but tears are already welling at her eyes, and her blood already feels cold as it runs through her veins. “ _Mum,”_ Clarke says, voice broken as she brings a hand over her mouth.

“I know, baby,” Abby soothes. “I know.”

Three deep breaths and Clarke relaxes her vice-like grip. “I’ll be there,” she says quietly. “Half an hour and I’ll be there.”

“Do you need me to call you a cab?”

“No,” she says. “No, I’m fine to drive. Just go. Help him, please.”

“Okay. Okay, be safe.”

“I will,” she assures. “I will. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Clarke ends the call, hand shaking as much as her breaths are, but a familiar numbness is already settling over her. It’s something she both hates and craves.

She navigates to Bellamy in her contacts, pressing the button and letting it ring over the car sound system. 

Only a few rings before “Clarke?”

She doesn’t respond for a moment, his warm voice combatting the cold feel of her body. She needs another moment to compose herself; one she doesn’t have.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” Bellamy asks, urgent this time. A few more breaths before, “Clarke, _please._ ”

“I need you to come to UCLA Medical Centre,” she says, voice just above a whisper.

“Is it Gemma?” Bellamy asks, frantic, and she can hear him already gathering things on his end of the line. 

“Gemma’s fine,” she tells him, jaw beginning to quiver and making her teeth chatter. The tears finally spill but it’s not with a loud sob, instead silently rolling down her cheeks, Clarke wiping them with her hands because she’ll have to drive in a moment. “It’s Wells. He’s been in an accident.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Can you please pick Gemma up from daycare for me?”

“Of course, Clarke. Of course.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice cracking.

“I’m leaving now, princess. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can, but I need you to stay on the line with me while you drive over, okay?” She nods, wiping her tears once more before putting her car back in drive and heading for the hospital. “Clarke you need to say okay.”

“Okay,” she says, and they stay on the line, only speaking when Bellamy asks her to repeat that she’s still okay until Clarke makes it to the hospital.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, princess,” Bellamy promises, and Clarke whispers another _thank you_ before she makes her way into the familiar hospital. 

She knows just where to go, having been here enough times in the few years her mum’s had a job as a head general surgeon. When she finds a nurse’s station they tell her she’s the only one to arrive so far, and Clarke remembers all of a sudden that Mel is up north visiting her parents. She’ll probably be trying to book a flight back to LA right now, and it sends a sickening jolt through her; wondering whether Mel will be up in the air while her boyfriend dies in surgery.

And maybe Clarke will be sitting right here, in an uncomfortable plastic chair that’s exactly the same as the one she sat in when it was her dad. Except eight years ago Wells was by her side, holding her hand throughout the night and catching her when she fell with the news that they weren’t able to save him. 

He’s been there through everything with Clarke, and all she can do it sit here; heart sinking in a chest that feels too small and too big at the same times, tears streaming and streaming from her eyes like they’ll never stop. So so cold but not quite numb. It hurts too much to be numb.

She’s not sure how much time passes before Raven’s by her side, wrapping her arms around Clarke with tears in her eyes. They hold onto each other for a long time, and when Clarke blinks back the blurriness in her eyes she sees Wick rubbing soothing circles onto Raven’s back while he himself, the usual jester that takes hardly anything seriously, looks like he’s about to break. Next it’s Harper, and then Monty, and Clarke just waits and waits and waits until the person she _needs_ joins them, too.

_Needs_ because she’s about to fall apart and the only person Clarke can even _think_ might hold her together is Bellamy. 

He finds them soon after Marcus does, Gemma in his arms as he makes quick strides across the hallway. He stops short when he sees them all, and Clarke can only imagine what they look like; the usually boisterous group so goddamn _broken,_ but he’s moving towards her too quickly for her mind to stay there. 

He sits down in the chair next to hers, Gemma immediately crawling into Clarke’s lap. Clarke wraps her arm around the little girl, feeling her warm and alive against her chest, and she presses kiss after kiss on the top of her head, just hugging and hugging and hugging.

When Clarke raises her gaze, Bellamy's already watching her; so much concern etched into his expression, and when her tears once again spill over, falling hot and quick, he pulls them both close to his chest. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers, repeating it over and over again, hand rubbing the back of Clarke’s neck soothingly. Holding her together like she knew he could. “You’re okay.”

She doesn’t even realise that she’s resting her forehead on his until she tilts her head back and her lips catch his lightly. _Slow, but right,_ she told herself. _Slow, slow, slow_ because he’s too important; _Gemma’s_ too important, but still she does it again, firmer this time, because Wells is dying and she's fucking breaking. Her hand cups his face and she feels a wetness on his cheek she’s not sure belongs to herself when she presses her mouth to his.

“You’re okay,” he repeats again, so close to her lips. His hand cards though her hair when she buries her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Alive. “You’re okay. You’re okay.  _You’re okay._ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/kudos are always appreciated :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter sorry but i'm hoping to get another one out tomorrow  
> ALso sorry i deleted then reposted this chapter cause i'm dumb  
> WHO IS READY FOR THE FINALE CAUSE I SURE AS FUCK AM NOT

It’s dark when they pull up to the apartment.

Gemma’s close to sleep, lulled by the drive, and Clarke holds her close as she takes her inside. She can feel the steady inhale and exhale of her daughter’s breath against her neck, and an odd sense of gratefulness settles over Clarke with each one. 

Bellamy follows them in without question - knowing where he’s meant to be; where he’s needed - and together, in a way that’s become familiar in the past few weeks, he and Clarke get Gemma ready for bed. Thankfully she doesn’t stir too much, exhausted from the hours spent in a small waiting room at the hospital, and goes down easily, expression perfectly serene as sleep takes ahold of her.

Clarke blows out a deep breath as she steps out of the bedroom quietly, blinking back the few tears that begin to well up in her eyes in an increasingly familiar way. 

“I’ll have to call work,” she says when she and Bellamy reach the lounge room, a safe distance from Gemma’s room. She’s mostly talking to herself, but Bellamy’s listening to her closely, worry creeping into his expression. “To let Sinclair know that I can’t make it in for the next few days. And - and my car - it needs to be picked up from the hospital. I’ll probably have to pay a ticket for leaving it overnight.” Her heart picks up its pace and the laugh that falls from her lips is a little manic. “Not - obviously I don’t care about that. I can - I can pay for a parking fine, of course. And, um, I should work out insurance stuff, because Mel probably won’t want to—”

“Clarke, _Clarke_ ,” Bellamy interrupts, hands settling on her shoulder and silencing her quickening downward spiral. His eyes flit over her face, assessing, before he smiles sadly. “How about you take a shower? It might make you feel better.”

Clarke exhales, body slumping in his grip. “O-okay.”

Bellamy nods, leading her to the bathroom and finding Clarke her toothbrush, comb, and a face washer before starting up the water. She can tell it’s part of his way of coping, trying to take care of her, so doesn’t comment. She offers him a small smile when he’s out of things to do.

“I’ll be right outside,” he tells her, and she’s even able to find comfort in his reassurance. 

“Thanks, Bell.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, then heads out of the bathroom, leaving Clarke to herself. 

She undresses with slow movements, eyes regarding herself closely in the mirror as each piece of clothing drops to the floor: skin pale enough on her chest to see the hints of blue along the curve of her breasts, the promise of blood pumping through her veins, but still with enough colour on her face that she looks healthy; alive. Eyes rimmed red and smudged black; bottom lip raw from where it’s been worried between her teeth. 

She lets her hand trace across her body, feeling the toned muscle of some parts and the soft swell of others; smooth skin interrupted by some freckles and moles, by the white and pink dips of stretch marks that appeared when her belly ballooned out three years ago. Scars that are a small price to pay when she received something so beautiful in return. 

She wonders how Wells looks at this moment; how his body is wrecked, how it’s sliced open in an attempt to save his life. Whether his scars will be something he can accept, embrace, when he comes out of this. _If_ he comes out of this.

She quickly averts her eyes from the mirror at the thought, and steps under the hot water. She lets it prickle at her skin, hoping it can wash the day away. All she wants to do is wash the fucking day away. 

It was hours of waiting at the hospital for an update; trying to stay strong for an increasingly restless daughter while devastation hollowed out her chest. Trying to remember the last words Wells spoke to her in person; the last time Clarke reminded her best friend that she loved him.

But eventually the sun went down and Clarke knew she couldn’t spend the whole night waiting - she has a daughter she can’t stop looking after in the midst of her own grief - and with promises to be kept updated, she, Bellamy and Gemma left the hospital to go home. A home that feels both comforting with the easiness of familiarity, and empty in the darkness of night.

She begins running shampoo and conditioner through her hair, scrubbing at her skin and soothing it with a gel that smells like citrus, until every part of her feels clean and refreshed. She feels better for it, the tightness in her chest untwisting as the water continues to pour over her, her limbs relaxing as she massages them up and down. But in the comfort of her own home, nobody to be strong for, it just keeps unraveling and unraveling, until everything hits her again. Exhaustion and heartache and worry and the reality of all that’s happened today. The reality that Wells might not survive this; that she could really lose her best friend, her brother.

Her tears begin to fall heavily, hot as they rolls down her cheeks, mixing with the water from the shower. She sinks to the tiled floor, arms circling around legs she pulls up to her chest, and her sobs come roughly; her breaths short and harsh as the leave her lungs.

It’s less than a minute before they’re loud enough for Bellamy to come check in on her. A knock on the door and, “Clarke?”

She lifts her head from her knees. “I - I’m okay,” she calls out, but the words are strangled; broken by another sob.

There’s a moment of hesitation before the door opens slightly, allowing Bellamy’s voice to be heard more clearly. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Clarke,” he says, soft; honest. “Can you get out of the shower for me?”

With a shudder Clarke closes her eyes and nods. She stands on shaky legs, turning off the stream of water and stepping out of the shower to dry herself with a towel. Her tears are still streaming down her face as she wraps it around her, and they show no sign of stopping so she doesn’t bother wiping her face any more.

She opens the door the rest of the way, and Bellamy startles a little from where his head was resting on it. He looks over her, Clarke naked save for the towel, but his eyes only hold sadness when they find hers. He pulls her into his chest, and Clarke continues to cry. She just cries and cries and cries as her body shakes against his, as he runs his fingers through her still wet hair. The kind of crying that leaves you exhausted, all the energy draining out until it feels like you can no longer stand; like you might just crumble to the ground and never get back up. But Bellamy’s arms are around her and he holds her upright, keeping her together as she falls apart, murmuring reassurances she doesn’t even register but still finds comfort in. 

She’s not sure how much time passes before her tears stop coming so hard. Without even realising it they’ve moved to the living room couch and a blanket’s been wrapped around her shoulders.

Clarke wipes her eyes, sniffling as she tries to get ahold of herself. She’s only ever broken down this much in front of her mum, Raven and - and Wells. 

There’s something terrifying about being so vulnerable in front of someone for the first time.

“Better?” Bellamy murmurs, hand rubbing up and down her back. 

“Yeah,” she replies quietly; honestly, even. The heavy weight resting on her chest has dissipated to a dull ache, and the almost suffocating intensity of her emotions has lessened, too. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, princess,” he scolds lightly. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “There’s nowhere else I’d be.”

Clarke smiles a little at his words, feeling incredibly grateful to have him in her life. She doesn’t know how she’d get through this without Bellamy. She could, she knows, but she’s glad she doesn’t have to. 

She glances up through her lashes, and is momentarily taken aback at how close they are; how intimate their position is. She’s curled into his side, all but sitting in his lap, as his arms hold her tight. A warmth curls within her as she takes him in: strong, alive, hers in a way nobody has been in such a long time. 

She traces her eyes over his face, taking in each feature carefully as if to lock it in her memory: the warm glow of his skin and the array of freckles that dot across every dip and rise, as though he soaked up all the sun he possibly could just to hold within himself. The dimple in his chin, like someone who loved him pressed their lips to the spot just so and the mark never faded. The cut of his jaw, sharp lines against the softness of his eyes, dark but with so much life shining through. His lips, a promise of breath and life and love — his lips.

Clarke leans forward and kisses him. 

It isn’t that she needs to forget, it’s that she needs to remember. Remember that he’s okay; that someone she both loves and likes is okay and with her.

She lets herself feel the pressure of his mouth for a long moment before drawing in his bottom lip, sucking it lightly between hers. Bellamy’s carefully still, unmoving despite her efforts, and Clarke runs her hands across his chest, soothing. “Please,” she whispers against his mouth, and she doesn’t know whether it’s the gesture or the word, but he slowly relaxes, letting his lips respond to hers. 

A warmth that combats the ache in Clarke’s chest sparks alight; the kiss slow and careful and quiet. An intimacy about it that she craves; a feeling of protection Bellamy offers that makes her feel like somehow, despite everything that’s happened, it will all be okay. 

She lets it build, pressing herself closer to his warmth and opening his mouth up with her tongue. Her hand moves up his neck and she feels his life under her touch; the quickening of his pulse just beneath his jaw. It grows and it grows and Clarke kisses him and then kisses him more quickly. She lets his warmth pour into her, her hands moving along his form to feel him: strong, strong, _strong_ _and_ _alive_. 

And then there’s nothing. He’s stolen her breath but she pushes forward anyway, only to be kept at bay by a pair of hands. It takes her a moment to realise that they’re cradling her face. It takes her two to realise that she’s crying again.

Her vision blurs and she feels tears when Bellamy wipes them from her cheeks.

He closes his eyes, exhales a deep breath. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” She asks, quiet and vulnerable. There’s an edge of desperation there, too, but she ignores it.

“I’m not doing this,” he tells her. His expression makes her heart clench painfully, and any words of protest die in her throat. “I’m not kissing you because you need a distraction.”

Clarke swallows hard. “That’s not—”

He shakes his head, and it’s then that she recognises the guilt etched on his face. “I’m not taking advantage of you like this, Clarke.”

“You aren’t,” she whispers, her own guilt settling in her chest. She just hopes he can hear the truth in her words. “Bellamy, you _aren’t._ ”

“I would be.”

“Bell—”

“Clarke, if I get to kiss you again, it’s not going to be because you’re falling apart.” When he looks at her there’s a spark of hope in his eyes and his smile is almost rueful. “It’s going to be because you’re happy. Because you just want to be kissed.”

Clarke’s eyes widen as she takes in his words, disbelief turning into hope when she finds his expression sincere and somewhat bashful. It’s - odd. With everything going on it feels wrong to have something in her warm at what she can only think of as a confession; to find happiness in it. But she does. And there’s relief there, too. It’s not how she wanted to go about talking to Bellamy, but at least this gives an indication of his feelings; ones that seem to match hers.

And he’s right, it’s not the time. Clarke wants to do this right, and kissing him after the day she’s had - the day they’ve both had - isn’t that. 

So she nods, hand finding his to give it a soft squeeze. “Okay.”

“Okay.” They stay like that for a minute, an odd energy beginning to grow until Bellamy shakes himself out of the daze. “Now, come on. You should finish getting ready for bed.”

Clarke nods, offering him a small smile before she makes her way to her bedroom. Her mind is muddled and tired with the late hour and the rollercoaster of emotions she’s experienced in the past few hours; the conflicting feeling of happiness and hope when she thinks about Bellamy’s words, and sorrow and dread when her thoughts return to Wells.

She continues getting herself ready for bed, slipping into a fresh set of pyjamas and moisturising her face. As she begins running a towel through her hair, a knock sounds on her bedroom door. 

“Come in,” Clarke says, soft.

Bellamy steps into the room, phone in hand. “Raven called.”

Clarke's in front of him in a beat. “Is there any news?” She asks, urgent. 

“Just that Wells is still in surgery,” he assures, calming. He rests a hand on her shoulder, mouth quirking up on one side. “She wanted me to tell you that you need to get some sleep tonight, though. And she made me promise to confiscate your laptop and phone if it looked like you weren’t going to.”

Clarke manages a small laugh - of course Raven did that - and lets his words settle. Still in surgery is a good thing. It means Wells is still fighting, that he’s still alive.

Bellamy tilts his head, regarding her closely. “You should dry your hair before you go to sleep.” 

That startles another small laugh out of her. “I don't want to wake Gem with a blowdryer,” she explains.

Bellamy nods. “Makes sense.” He hesitates for a moment before offering, “I can braid it to stay out of your face if you’d like.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, rolling his eyes. “I practically raised O, remember? I’m pretty well versed in the art of braiding hair.”

Clarke smiles again. “Yeah, okay.”

Bellamy motions for her to sit on the floor, and she settles down with him perched up behind her on the bed. He finds a brush on her bedside table and runs it through her hair, untangling knots carefully and painlessly, before grabbing the towel to dry it as much as he can. He parts her hair, twisting it together gently as his nails scrape against her scalp every so often, and Clarke leans into the touch.It’s hard not to relax under his work.

By the time he finishes, two braids keeping Clarke’s hair out of her face as promised, her eyes have started to droop. Bellamy offers a hand to help her stand. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He tilts his head towards the bed. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you’ve had some sleep.” 

Clarke nods, and tries not to feel awkward about getting in with him standing right there. He places a glass of water on her bedside table before pulling the blanket up.

“Get some sleep, Clarke,” he tells her. “I’ll be on the couch, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers, but as soon as he makes a move to leave panic settles in; the thought of being alone all of a sudden unbearable. “Wait. Can you - stay? Please? I just - I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Bellamy softens, nods. “Of course.” He toes off his shoes and slides in next to her on his side, a safe distance away. Clarke shuffles closer, and when his hand begins rubbing up and down her arm she gives up any pretences and settles her back against his chest. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her. She relaxes into his touch. “It’s fine, Clarke.” 

She thinks it’ll take a while to drift off with everything that’s happened - devastation over Wells still pulses through her heart even though her tears have stopped, and the anxiety of not knowing what’s to come prickles at her skin - but exhaustion wins out in the end. 

Clarke drifts to sleep to the feeling of Bellamy’s breath against her neck and encased in the safety of his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !?!??!?!?!?!?!?


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well alright i'm apparently a huge fucking liar so never trust me again  
> writer's block is real shit y'all and i decided to split what was meant to be my original chapter (the last one) up again so lol whoops  
> this is once again a good dose of bellarkeness hope you enjoy!

There's no moment of realisation. 

It’s not a heart wrenching memory that floods her, or a big rush of emotion that has her sitting up in shock, and no sob that wracks her body and pulls all the air from her lungs.

Instead it’s warm streams of light pricking the backs of her eyelids, a soft hum coming from somewhere beside her, and the knowledge at the forefront of her mind; there from the moment consciousness seeped back in: 

Wells was in a car crash, and he could be dead right now.

She wishes for those few seconds of peace she thought she’d get before it all came crashing down, but they aren’t given to her. It’s just _there,_ and Clarke has to count out her breathing like she did in the weeks following her dad’s death, because she’s not ready to face it, not yet. 

When she finally blinks her eyes open sleepily, it’s Bellamy she sees lying close to her in bed. He’s watching her with bleary, unfocused eyes, stretching out his back and stifling a yawn like he’s only just waking up too, and Clarke lets herself take him in. 

His hair is wild with curls, nose scrunched up as the early morning sun hits him just a little in the face, shirt crinkled where it pops out from beneath the blankets. In any other situation the sight would’ve made Clarke laugh, maybe even prompting a blush to creep up on her cheeks with the thought that this is how she wants to spend every morning from here on out - with Bellamy next to her in bed - but now all she can manage is a smile. Even then it feels small where it pulls at her lips, an intrusive sadness already settled deep within her.

“Hey,” Bellamy murmurs after a long minute of silence, voice still thick with sleep. He reaches out a hand to tuck a curl that’s gotten loose from her braids behind her ear, thumb skimming the curve of her forehead. Clarke’s eyes close reflexively at the gentle touch. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Clarke’s voice is just above a whisper when she answers, another bit of vulnerability she’s trusting Bellamy with. “I’m scared to check my phone,” she tells him honestly, the familiar sting building behind her eyes. When she opens them a few hot tears roll down her face, pooling awkwardly with the angle she’s lying in. 

Bellamy watches her sadly, a concerned furrow to his brow. He takes her hand from where it lies between them on the bed and starts tracing her knuckles.

“Clarke Griffin scared?” He tries for a joke, an attempt to lighten the intensity of the situation, but the teasing edge to his voice is matched with an equal measure of worry. 

It manages to startle a laugh from Clarke anyway; the watery sound rueful as it leaves her lips. She wipes at her eyes and sighs dramatically. “I know,” she sniffles, going along with it as she squeezes his hand in thanks. “I don’t think it’s ever been heard of before.”

“Probably not,” Bellamy agrees, smile soft. 

They lay like that for a few minutes, Clarke trying to calm herself down as the feeling of last night’s panic returns, creeping up to her chest and pressing down uncomfortably. She’s able to eventually, Bellamy by her side and offering comfort with his touch, eyes soft and full of concern. It’s only when she takes a deep breath that he speaks up again, expression becoming more earnest.

“It’s scary, Clarke, I know it is, but you can handle it. Whatever happens, you can handle it. I’ll be here with you the entire time.”

And for whatever reason, Clarke believes him. She can handle this. She nods, taking another deep, cleansing breath. Bad air out, good air in. “Okay,” she says, surprised that her voice comes out strong; determined. 

She gives Bellamy’s hand another squeeze before letting go completely and turning onto her other side. Her phone sits unceremoniously on the bedside table, and Clarke’s hand only shakes a little as she reaches for it.

It’s just past six in the morning, and she has dozens of notifications on her phone. The most recent of which are a couple of missed calls from Abby - only a few minutes ago, Clarke realises, which is probably what woke her and Bellamy - and a text when she obviously didn’t pick up. 

She sits up in bed and Bellamy follows suit, settling close to her along the headboard so that their arms brush against each other. With a hand grasping his fiercely, and a breath she can’t help but hold, Clarke swipes at the text notification.

_I called, but you must still be asleep. He’s out of surgery, darling. In a critical condition but alive. I have to stay at the hospital for another half hour, so call if you need anything. If I’m already home I’ll make sure Marcus fills you in. I love you so much, Clarke. Hope you and Gem were able to get some rest last night._

A disbelieving breath catches in her throat, and it takes Clarke at least five re-reads for the words to sink in. In between blinks her phone is dropped somewhere on the bed and her arms are thrown around the man beside her. 

Bellamy startles with Clarke’s sudden contact, but soon he’s reciprocating, winding his arms around her waist and hugging her back just as tight. She tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in, the earthy scent that sticks to him no matter what calming when shock flares up inside her. 

“He made it through the night,” she whispers, tears quickly pressing up against her eyes again. They spill over easily, but this time Clarke laughs a little as she cries, heart filling with relief. 

“He made it through the night,” Bellamy repeats, maybe for her or maybe for himself. All Clarke knows is that hearing the words spoken by him brings so much reassurance, and she can’t help but cry harder. 

They’re interrupted after a few minutes of just holding each other, Bellamy rubbing Clarke’s back and soothing her tears to sniffles. The sound of her phone chirping prompts her to disentangle herself from Bellamy’s warmth and she smiles at him thankfully, wiping the wetness from her eyes. She fishes her phone from where it’s hidden in amongst the blankets, and her mum’s photo flashes up on the screen. Clarke takes a deep breath before answering.

“Hey, Mum.”

_“Clarke,”_ Abby breathes out. She can already hear the exhaustion in her mum’s voice, but there’s relief there too. _“Did you get my message?”_

“Yeah. I just read it. It’s—” Her voice catches, and she has to clear her throat to continue. “He’s really okay?”

_“Yeah, baby. For now he’s okay.”_

She continues to explain the situation to Clarke, telling her that Wells is okay for the moment, in a critical condition and being carefully monitored, and that he might need more surgery in the days to come. It’s odd hearing the news from her mum; listening to the gentle voice she adopts that Clarke recognises from when Gemma’s upset and she’s trying to soothe the little girl, but also how she’s very careful with her words. Clarke knows she wants to reassure her that everything will be okay, wants to comfort her in the way a mother should, but Abby’s been a doctor long enough to know that making promises she can’t keep won’t bring any good.

It’s a stark reminder of the reality of the situation - that while Wells survived the surgery and made it through the night, he’s not in the clear - and it quickly curls around the sparks of hope that had risen in her chest, reining them in because hope is dangerous and she’s known that ever since she let herself believe her father could survive his car crash eight years ago. He didn’t last the night, and the memory is enough to bring her back from a mind full of happy endings that might never happen. 

She and Abby talk for a while longer, but eventually her mum has to check in on a few more patients, and they say goodbye with a promise to see each other later in the day.

“Okay?” Bellamy asks, taking Clarke’s hand when she rests her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, trying to sort through all the thoughts that begin to race in her mind. “I think I’m just overwhelmed, mostly.”

“I can imagine,” he murmurs. “It’s been a stressful twenty four hours.”

“Just a little.”

Bellamy chuckles, and once again they sit together in silence for a few minutes. It’s nice, his presence strong and sure, but it doesn’t stop her mind from focusing on Wells; on everything that could still go wrong in the coming days. Because while her heart is still full with relief, worry easily becomes intrusive, and it’s difficult not to let it take ahold. She tilts her head up to look at Bellamy, and he focuses on her immediately. She feels vulnerable, just like she did last night, but his eyes are kind and he waits for Clarke to find her words. 

“What if he - what do I do if he really doesn’t make it? After all this, what is he still dies?”

The words taste wrong in her mouth, but she knows it’s a possibility, and it doesn’t become any less of a possibility because she doesn’t want to think about it; because the thought makes her want to break down in tears again. 

Bellamy considers the question, and then seems to choose his response carefully. “I don’t want to tell you it’s not going to happen,” he tells Clarke gently, and she nods, grateful for that. She’s not looking for someone to tell her Wells is going to live; that she doesn’t need to worry. “We’ve both lost parents, and for me at least, false promises weren’t appreciated.”

“Yeah, that’s not — I don’t want that, either.”

He smiles sadly, fingers lacing between hers and curling around them tightly. “But if it does happen, you’re going to get through it. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Clarke, and I raised O so that’s saying a lot.” She allows herself a smile at that, and can see the way Bellamy relaxes with it. “And you’ll have me with you. And Gemma, and your mum and Marcus and all of your other friends. If it happens it’s going to be hard and fucking awful, you and I both know that, but we’ll get through it together.”

Clarke nods, letting herself believe his words, because while they’re heartbreaking to consider, there feels like a promise in them, too. She is strong, she knows that, and she will survive whatever happens, even if that’s losing Wells. Bellamy will be by her side though it all, and the knowledge gives her something to hold onto. 

“Thank you, Bellamy,” she whispers. “For everything, just — thank you.”

“I thought I told you not to thank me,” he reminds, smile still sad but voice with a teasing edge, trying to get a laugh.

She manages one too, though it comes out wet. “Yeah, okay. Not thank you, then.”

“You’re not welcome.”

Clarke laughs again, blinking back her tears, and is about to respond with something snarky when she’s cut off by a yawn. Bellamy narrows his eyes, a little furrow making its way between his brow. 

“You need more sleep.”

Clarke shakes her head, even though she knows she does. The rush of energy that came after reading Abby’s text is quickly waning, and her body already feels heavy again; not quite ready to start the day. 

“It’s past six,” she reasons, ignoring the slight slur to her voice, “and Gem will be awake soon.”

“Yeah, if only there was someone else here who could possibly look after her.” Clarke rolls her eyes and Bellamy smirks in return. “I’m serious, Clarke. I’ll get up, you get some more sleep.”

She worries her lip, thinking it over. She should let him go, but right now she just wants a few more minutes of the comfort that he brings. “We probably have a bit longer just to rest, yeah?”

Bellamy smiles, and she can see it in his eyes that he knows what she’s thinking; what she needs. “Yeah, I reckon we do.”

They settle back into bed, and with Bellamy by her side Clarke’s once again asleep in minutes.

***

When she wakes next it’s to the feeling of someone crawling on top of her. An elbow to the boob, a knee to the stomach, and Clarke groans as her eyes flutter open, finding the expected cheeky grin spread across Gemma’s face. She glances to the sidequickly, relieved to see that Bellamy’s no longer in bed with her, before rounding her arms around Gemma and tickling her sides. 

It’s the typical treatment the little girl receives whenever she decides to wake Clarke up like this, and as usual she bursts into a peal of laughter, the sound uninhibited and joyful and making Clarke’s chest lighten more and more each second it fills the room. She loves these moments; so small and insignificant but at the same time _everything,_ so much of what she loves about being a mum to her little button. 

Eventually they both run themselves out of breath, and Gemma slumps down heavily, resting her head on Clarke’s breasts like they’re a pillow. The normalcy of it all feels a lot like relief, so welcome when her mind is still clouded with thoughts of Wells, and Clarke clutches to the easy joy Gemma brings. She’s incredibly lucky to have a daughter who’s happy and healthy, and it’s a good reminder to be grateful for it. 

“How are you, button?” Clarke asks, voice still a little sleepy despite their activity. She reaches out to card her hand through Gemma’s hair, down in the usual wild mess it is when she sleeps with it out. The sight makes Clarke smile; she’ll never get over the fact that Gemma kept her blonde curls.

“Good,” the little girl replies giddily, propping herself up to look at Clarke. “Mummy feel better?” 

“Yeah, baby, I am.” She sits up properly, readjusting Gemma to settle on her lap and hugging her close. She presses a few kisses onto the crown of her head, trying to tamp down the guilt she feels for letting her daughter see her so upset yesterday. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

Gemma simply glances up and reaches her little, chubby hand up to squeeze Clarke’s cheek. “Bellme’s making pancakes.”

“Yeah? That’s nice of him.”

Gemma nods seriously before replacing her hand with her lips, smacking a wet kiss onto Clarke’s cheek. She slides back onto the floor and tugs at Clarke’s arm urgently. “Come on!”

“Alright, I’m coming,” Clarke chuckles, watching Gemma run out of the room with a smile. When the little girl is gone she scrubs a hand over her face and takes a few deep breaths. “You can do this,” she tells herself. _You can check your phone, you can have breakfast with your family, you can visit Wells, and you can get through the day. You can handle this._

With a nod to herself Clarke checks her phone, finding that it’s just past eight, and that there are no new updates on Wells’ condition. She reads the texts she received throughout the night, all before she got the news that he’d survived the surgery from her mum, and sends responses to each of her friends; thanking them and letting them know that she, Gem and Bellamy are doing okay. After pocketing her phone she leaves her bedroom, the smell of breakfast quickly becoming apparent as she walks to the kitchen. Bellamy is making pancakes, as Gemma promised, and he shoots Clarke a smile when she sidles up next to him at the stove. 

“Hey,” he greets, finding her hand the second it’s within reach. “How're you feeling?”

“Better, thanks,” Clarke responds with a smile, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Have you heard anything?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. It’s only a little past eight, though, so I assume there’s no change.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Clarke nods. “I haven’t either.” She hates the not knowing, but Bellamy’s right; it’s been less than two hours since her mother called and it’s unlikely anything’s changed. She rolls out the tension from her shoulders and decides to focus on something that always makes her feel better. “Gem demanded that you make pancakes?”

Bellamy smiles, raising a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Yeah, she did. But she assured me that you loved them, too.”

“I do.”

“Well, there you go,” he grins. “Your daughter has your back.”

Clarke laughs, glancing over her shoulder to find Gemma on the couch, a book in hand that she’s most likely making a story up to. Clarke softens as she looks at the little girl, the way her eyes are narrowed in concentration and the way she’s talking to herself quietly, Occi tucked into her side cosily. “Yeah, she’s a good one.”

“The best,” Bellamy agrees, offering Clarke a private smile. He lets go of her hand to pour some more batter into a pan and raises an eyebrow. “Now come on, help me get breakfast ready.”

Clarke rolls her eyes but does as she’s told, getting out some cutlery and plates as Bellamy continues to take care of the pancakes, flipping them when they’re perfectly golden and sliding them onto a plate in the oven to stay warm. She chops up some fruit and finds the maple syrup and butter, setting it all up on the table before she makes herself and Bell a cup of coffee.

It’s odd to have such a strong sense of domesticity in the midst of everything that’s going on, but it brings a welcome calmness to Clarke when she could so easily work herself up again. She continues to remind herself that any updates on Wells will be relayed to her quickly, and lets Bellamy’s morning chatter distract her from her worries.

It’s only when her alarm to call Gem’s daycare goes off that Clarke frowns, noting the time again. 

“Wait, don’t you have work? It’s already half past eight, you should be getting ready.”

“Nah,” Bellamy says, shaking his head before taking a deliberate sip of coffee. “I called in sick.”

Clarke shoots him a look. “You didn’t have to do that, Bellamy.”

“Of course I did,” he says, easy as anything, but Clarke can see how doubt creeps into his expression at her words, maybe thinking he’s over-stepped his place. “I don’t have to stay, but I just wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”

Clarke smiles, so incredibly grateful. It’s nice knowing someone’s looking out for her. “I won’t say thank you, because you won’t accept it, but — I really appreciate it, Bellamy.”

“Anytime, princess.” She ducks her head to hide her smile, and when she looks back up Bellamy’s eyes are trained on her, earnest. “I’m serious, Clarke. I’ll always be here for you.”

It’s only after she nods, accepting his words, that Bellamy breaks eye contact, focussing back on the pancakes. Clarke turns, mind a little muddled as she makes a call to the daycare centre, letting them know Gemma won’t be in today, and wonders for what feels like the hundredth time what she’d do without him.

***

They’re not able to see Wells. 

Clarke gets the call from Mel just before breakfast, the woman telling her that the hospital is only allowing family to see him for the time being, and it’s — it’s hard to head. Wells _is_ her family, and she wants more than anything to be there for him, but she can’t. When Mel adds that Thelonious is already in LA and currently with him, it’s a little better. Clarke knows that despite everything Wells and his father have been through, Thelonious still loves his son, and she’s thankful he can be there when she can’t. They talk for a while longer, checking in with each other because it’s been a hellish past twenty-four hours, and they both promise to keep the other updated if they hear anything.

Clarke explains the situation to Bellamy after she hangs up, and it’s hard not to notice how he softens with the news, not exactly _careful_ around her so much as just _there_ ; making sure he can offer support if she needs it.

“It’s okay,” Clarke assures with a tired smile, cutting up Gem’s pancakes before calling the little girl over to the dining table. “I can handle it, right?”

Bellamy’s lips quirk a smile, a little sad but also a little proud. “Always.”

It’s odd after that, the day continuing in a way that feels way too normal for the situation.

Breakfast is its usual affair, with Gemma making a mess and relaying badly told stories, a mouth full of food every time she giggles that Clarke has to remind her to swallow before speaking. She’s thankful for the distraction her daughter brings, but Bellamy’s better at keeping up with the little girl’s enthusiasm; filling in Clarke’s lulls by asking more questions and telling more stories. His eyes are soft whenever they meet hers, and she knows he’s trying to tell her to let him take this; that she doesn’t need to be totally there because he can be instead. 

He continues by offering to give Gem a bath, and when Clarke opens her mouth to protest he shoots her enough of a look to silence them. Instead she checks with Gemma that it’s okay, and when she receives an enthusiastic response, heads to her bedroom while the other two go to the bathroom.

It’s actually good, giving Clarke a chance to process; to check in with herself. She’s yet to be alone for more than three tear-filled minutes since she was at work yesterday, and while she’s glad she’s had so much support, sometimes Clarke needs time to herself to properly sort through everything running through her mind.

She feels uneasy knowing she won’t be able to see Wells today, but still a lot better than she did both last night and early this morning. The extra sleep has allowed her a clearer head and the company of her daughter and Bellamy has kept her grounded, and while she knows the coming days are going to be tough, she feels a lot better with the knowledge that they’ll both be by her side through it all. 

What Clarke suspects she’ll find the most difficult is dealing with the feeling of utter _uselessness;_ knowing there’s nothing she can do to help Wells - not really; not like her mother can - and hating how little control she has over the situation. It’s something that’s been there from when she was a child, always bossing Wells around about what activities they’d spend the day doing, whether it be making him play the prince she’d inevitably save from the treehouse in her backyard or persuading him to pose in a most likely uncomfortable position while she practiced her drawing. It remained there throughout middle school, as she quickly learnt to elect herself as the leader of any group project the class was assigned, and later in high school when she ran for student body president because she didn’t trust any of her classmates to get things done right. And while it mellowed out during her college years, there’s a reason her friends called her The Mum of the group long before Gemma was around.

There’s just a part of her that itches to be in control, to be actively _doing_ something; calling the shots and getting things organised. In stressful situations it helps Clarke feel calm and collected, giving her something to focus on when the alternative is too painful to consider, but she won’t have that with Wells. 

It’s out of her hands, and she’s going to have to accept and deal with it, because there’s really no alternative. 

With that thought Clarke takes a deep breath and once again tells herself that she can get through the day. She stretches out her arms and legs, letting the tension seep from her muscles until she feels more relaxed, before her hands move to her hair. They’re still mostly in braids, with wisps of fuzzy fluff framing her face, and she begins taking them out carefully. It brings her back to last night; to Bellamy’s deft fingers lacing it together so easily, so gently, his touch making Clarke relax despite everything going on. He’s a tactile person, Clarke knows that, and she also knows that it’s part of his way of being there for someone. And knowing that he was being there for _her,_ even after what she did, kissing him like that, well — it’s a lot. 

A lot that Clarke pushes to the back of her mind, before the thoughts take root, because it would be too easy to get lost in the memory of the kiss, in Bellamy’s words, in her own feelings. There are more important things to think about right now. She’ll deal with what happened later, when Wells wakes up or when — Clarke closes her eyes, swallowing thickly. Just, later. 

She finishes getting ready quickly, and by the time she’s dressed and her bed remade, Clarke can hear the sound of Bellamy and Gemma’s voices drifting in from the little girl’s room. With the squeals and mild protests she assumes Gemma’s having a difficult time deciding on what she wants to wear. 

She laughs in surprise when she finds them with what appears to be a third of Gemma’s clothes thrown on the floor and Bellamy looking pretty defeated as he holds onto a top with dinosaurs on it.

“Come on, Gem,” he pleads, offering it to her with an appealing hand gesture. “It’s got the one with the long neck that you like.”

“Brachiosaurus,” Clarke supplies, stepping into the room to give her daughter a Mum Look. “Button, let Daddy put that top on for you.”

Bellamy looks towards her, a little startled by the intrusion, but manages to recover quickly, shooting Clarke a grateful smile. He’s got a glint of disbelief in his eyes as he helps Gemma into the top, something like awe written across his face which she knows is because the term has yet to sink in for him completely. It’s a good look, but Clarke can’t wait for it to be gone; for the term to come naturally to him; to everyone.

He meets Clarke by the bedroom door while Gemma finishes getting dressed by herself, and they both watch how she narrows her eyes in concentration and steps into a pair of leggings. Bellamy chuckles at the triumphant grin she shoots them when she’s put them on successfully, before shuffling a little closer to Clarke, like he wants to be right there next to her in case she needs anything.

“So, what do you want to do for the rest of the day?” he asks lowly, a hand moving to her back and beginning to rub large circles. He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s doing it, his comfort coming so naturally, so instinctively, and the thought makes Clarke smile. “We can stay here and relax - try to keep our minds off everything that’s going on - or I can look after Gem while you go into the hospital, maybe find out when you’re allowed to see him.”

“I don’t think I should go in,” Clarke admits after a moment, worrying her lip. “I just — I’d rather be with you two, and it’s not fair on Gem to stay at the hospital all day.”

“Of course,” Bellamy says sincerely. He looks at her for a minute, careful. “You don’t have to feel guilty about that, you know,” he continues. “It’s — it’s important that you take care of yourself, too, Clarke, and if that means staying with people who make you feel better, that’s okay.”

Clarke nods, blinking back her tears. It’s startling sometimes, to realise how well Bellamy can read her; how well he understands her. “Okay,” she breathes out, a little shaky. Then, clearer, “okay.”

“Okay.”

Clarke huffs a laugh at his teasing smile, and then offers one of her own. “I guess this is a good idea. It means we can go to your place and you can have a shower.”

He grins at that. “You saying I smell, princess?”

“I wouldn’t use those words exactly.”

“And what words would you use?”

Clarke’s mouth tugs up into a cheeky smile, grateful for the moment of levity. “That I’m glad we can go to your place and you can have a shower.”

Bellamy shakes his head on a laugh. “Brat.”

They do go to Bellamy’s house, and when he ducks into the bathroom with a promise to be out quickly Clarke can only roll her eyes. It’s a little ridiculous that he still thinks he needs to play host after all this time; Clarke and Gem both feel so comfortable in his space. When he comes back out, showered and newly dressed, she tells him as much, and it’s nice seeing the way his cheeks go slightly pink, mumbling a barely coherent _shut up._

The rest of the day is spent like so many others, playing out in the sun as both she and Bellamy chase Gem around the backyard, reading a story to the little girl before her midday nap. She’s grateful Bellamy’s once again there to take the lead, because Clarke can’t help but let her mind wander. He brings her back to the moment like she’s done for him so many times in the past - with small touches to the small of her back or her shoulder, with soft calls of her name - and each time she offers a sheepish smile before focusing back in on Gemma.

They stay late into the afternoon before Bellamy drives her and Gemma back into the hospital so Clarke can pick up her car. She checks if Wells is allowed visitors, but he’s not, and she pushes down the frustration that bubbles up in her chest when she goes back into the carpark, Bellamy strapping Gem into the carseat in the back of her car. 

“No good?” Bellamy asks when he sees her, taking in what she can only imagine is an exasperated expression. Clarke shakes her head and he softens, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he murmurs, “you’ll see him soon, okay?”

Clarke deflates, nodding. “They said we’ll probably be allowed in tomorrow. I’m just — tense, I don’t know. I hate having to wait.”

“I know. It’s hard not knowing, I get that.” He sighs, smiles a little. “You’ll be okay to drive to your mum’s though?”

“Yeah, Bell, I’ll be fine.”

“Good. I’ll just—” he points back to the car with his thumb and Clarke smiles, watching as he returns to Gemma.

He hugs her goodbye for a long time, something Clarke can definitely understand after everything that’s happened. She knows she’ll be guilty of the same thing in the coming weeks, spending extra time saying goodbye when she drops the little girl off to daycare or kissing her more than usual before bedtime. Logically Clarke knows it’s ridiculous to be paranoid that something’s going to happen to her, but it’s hard to think logically when Wells is fighting for his life right now. She just wants her daughter close; needs the reassurance that she’s okay.

When Bellamy finally lets go after speaking to Gem quietly, smile so warm and kind as he tells her he loves her, he comes back to Clarke, pulling her in for a hug.

“Let me know when you get to your mum’s, okay?” 

“I will,” she assures, nodding into the crook of his neck. “You do the same when you get home.” 

“Of course.”

She holds onto him tighter, her throat closing up a little at the thought of leaving him. It’s ridiculous, because she’ll see him tomorrow, but — it’s just hard, letting him go. When they break away his hand skims down the side of her face gently, and while he’s smiling Clarke can see the concern in his eyes. “I’ll be okay, Bell. Having Mum and Marcus, it’ll be good. They’re good at taking care of us.”

He looks reassured by her words, and nods. “Okay, just — call if you need anything.”

“I will, I promise.” He smiles again, letting out a shaky breath that makes Clarke think this might be as hard for him as it is for her, and when he moves to step back she catches his hand. “Thank you, Bellamy. I can’t even imagine how much harder this would’ve been without you.” She shakes her head, wipes her eyes quickly. “You’ve been so incredible, and — and I’m really lucky to have you.” She looks to Gemma, seated in the car. “We both are.”

“You’re welcome, Clarke,” he says softly. He leans in to press a kiss to her forehead, an oddly intimate gesture, and when he pulls back he’s smiling, a little sad. “Be safe; both of you.”

“We will,” she promises, opening the door to the driver’s seat. “Bye, Bell.”

“Cya tomorrow, princess.”

She nods, offering one last smile before hopping into her car and putting it in drive. She can see Bellamy watch them go in the rear view mirror, and it makes something warm grow in her chest; knowing how much he cares about the both of them.

She truly is lucky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhhhhhh

**Author's Note:**

> Cry w me about bellarke @ [bisexualbellamyblake](http://bisexualbellamyblake.tumblr.com/) if u wanna! Or get angry when I'm not updating after a cliffhanger.


End file.
